Vicis
by Quicksilvern
Summary: Harry finds himself in Victorian London on the night of his creature inheritance. What will happen to him? The years roll by and the time he originated from grows closer. Will he face Voldemort, join him, or be loyal only to himself and Sebastian? HP/SM slash Demon!Harry, Indifferent!Harry, Kind of time travel fic, AU
1. Chapter 1

The day was dreary. Rain fell outside, tapping the glass windows of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The halls of the castle were eerily silent, with students asleep and in their dorms. The entire castle felt as if it were waiting for something, something big, to happen. Indeed, if one were to walk for a while in the opposite direction of the castle for some time, stand upon a distant hill, and tilt their head just right, they would see the castle leaning just _slightly_ to the left, as if in anticipation. This went unnoticed by most everyone, except for one wily teacher, and the headmaster.

Severus Snape prided himself on being able to listen to the tide and know when something was coming. There was many a time when if he had not listened to such a sixth sense, he would have ended up dead. Which is why on this night he was standing in headmaster Albus Dumbledore's office, trying to get the daft old coot to listen to him for once.

"Albus, surely you sense it. The winds of change are coming, and if you would pull your head out of your arse and stop drugging yourself on lemon drops, you would see it." Severus was frustrated. Albus, curse him, was not listening. Again.

"Calm down, Severus. A change is coming, yes, I have sensed it, but that does not help us very much. We can only wait and watch. It is impossible to know what is coming, unless you have become a Seer and have abstained from telling me." Dumbledore offered a smile at the obviously incensed potion master, popping a lemon drop into his mouth. "We do not have any notion of what to prepare for, Severus. Perhaps, though, I should go get my lucky socks. They have helped many a time." Here, he adopted a thoughtful expression, only further infuriating Snape.

"Albus, I sincerely doubt socks of all things are going to help with this. This is big, very big, I can feel it. This will change the tide of the war. This will change everything." Here, he took a breath, trying to calm himself down. It would not do to lose his composure. The headmaster scrutinized him for a moment, realizing the man was truly worried about this. "Nonsense, Severus, warm feet can help everything. Why, how else would I get around on this cold stone floor?" Sobering slightly, he said gently, "Truthfully, there is nothing we can do. It will come and we will deal with it as it comes. We must be vigilant, Severus. We cannot allow this to sneak up on us, or we may finally lose this war."

Snape nodded, his expression shadowed. "We are close to losing. Surely you realize this. Your precious Gryffindor golden boy has been gone for a two years. The only reason we have not lost yet is because the Dark Lord is gathering his mind. He is not insane anymore. He has…reason." His lip curled around this word with a certain amount of awe and fear. A Dark Lord with his intelligence and reason intact was much more of a threat than an insane one.

Dumbledore nodded, his face suddenly exhausted. The reminder of Harry was a punch to the face. He had failed the boy, spectacularly so. Now, the boy was gone, and Voldemort was about to move in. The Ministry was useless and corrupt. Voldemort was winning, and the only person who could stop him had been gone for a very long time. Everything he had tried had failed in locating Harry. Falkes couldn't locate him, even his strongest locator spells couldn't locate him. It was as if Harry Potter did not exist anymore, yet that was impossible. The heart monitor connected to him still shone, showing he was still alive. The light was strange, a sickly red, yet it still shone. Every time he looked at it, Dumbledore felt a sense of foreboding. He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"I fear for the future, Severus. I fear for the children, for the school, for Harry, for our lives." The words were whispered, a deep weariness embedded within them. "I have done all I could, under the circumstances. It seems that it does not matter. I have felt myself losing hope day by day. Yet it is all I have, and I grasp it with all the strength I have left. We must trust Harry to come back. It is all we have."

Snape sneered, an expression of deep distaste on his face. "I had trouble believing the boy could do it before, and I say it again. He is just a boy, Albus. A foolish, arrogant boy who takes after his father far too much. Even if he were to come back, I am not convinced."

Silence stretched through the office, deep and oppressive. "If you do not think he can do it, then who can, Severus? You? Me? I am but an old man. I can hold Tom off, perhaps, but that is my limit. No, Severus, Harry is all we had." He sighed, a gust of air expelled through lungs. Silence stretched once again.

"If that is all, Albus, I will take my leave." Snap said stiffly, his face carefully blank. Dumbledore nodded, his eyes sad as they followed him out the door. Things were bleak, very bleak indeed.

* * *

-2 Years Earlier-

Harry James Potter was confused. Very much so. One second he had been in the Dursley's house, waiting for midnight on his seventeenth birthday, and for the Order to come get him, and the next second he was...not. He was standing on some street, who knows where, and there were...carriages? His mind felt like a balloon, and all it would take would be a too sharp thought and he'd pop. It was a strange feeling.

How did he always get himself into these situations? Merlin knows Snape thought it was for attention, not that he'd ever see anything in him but his father. He hadn't even tried this time! There was no chance to run, to fight, nothing, he was just here. Wherever here was. His stomach roiled uncomfortably, and his headache started to grow worse. The clack of horse's hooves on cobblestone seemed to drive into his skull. It was for the best, he decided, that he get off the street. Not that he knew where to go. Wherever he was, he had no house or room for himself anywhere.

He glanced around. Brick buildings lined a cobblestone street. Women in rather large and old fashioned dresses walked next to men in suits he knew only existed in the Victorian era. Carriages attached to horses trotted through the street. A smell of dirt and poop filled the street, most likely from the horses. He wrinkled his nose. It smelled awful. The men and women walking glanced at him, distaste and suspicion written on their face. A rather snobbish looking man with brown hair and jowls rivaling that of a pit bull shoved past him, knocking him into the alley he hadn't realized was behind him.

He was starting the breathe heavily, and with it, the nausea in his stomach was turning to pain. He realized, belatedly, that he was still turning seventeen, and his inheritance was fast approaching. Thinking quickly, he drew his wand from his pocket, thanking Merlin that he'd kept it in his pocket. He shakily drew the pattern for a silencing charm and muggle repelling charm, incanting under his breath. He wouldn't be disturbed, and right on time, for as soon as he finished the pain in his gut and head increased tenfold. He didn't fancy doing this in a dirty side alley in Victorian wherever, but he had no choice.

His vision swam, and black spots filled his vision. His nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. He clenched his teeth, trying not to scream. This was pain like none he'd ever felt before. It filled him, all-encompassing, driving out any sensation except pain, pain, and more pain. His nerves felt as if they were on fire, screaming. It felt remarkably similar to a crucio.

It was too much. Soon, all he knew was the darkness of unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

It occurred to me that there were a few things I should clear up. Here, Harry Potter is canon up until he is 17, or right before he is seventeen. In Kuroshitsuji, everything is canon up until season 2. I did not like season 2, and it does not fit my story at all, so I will stick with season 1. Ciel had his soul eaten by Sebastian in this story, or at least he will. That is another thing. Kuroshitsuji hasn't happened yet here. This is 1865 Victorian London. Ciel was born in 1875, if what I looked up is right. Harry will not meet Sebastian until Ciel has had his soul eaten. Ciel is 13 in Kuro, and the story takes place spaced out over a year. Which means it will be at least 24 years before Harry meets Seb. There will be a significant timeskip.

I'll only do this once: I don't own or claim to own Kuroshitsuji or Harry Potter.

* * *

His head was killing him. His entire body felt as if it had been hit by a sledgehammer. Every muscle ached. He found himself wishing for unconsciousness again, if only to sleep the ache away. Sadly, he was completely awake now, and with that came awareness that he was sitting in a dirty alley, and a puddle of urine was right next to him. Joy.

He also quickly noticed that it was night time now. He had arrived here while it was still daylight, so he must've been unconscious until night time. His inheritance had come. He could feel it in his bones. He felt more at home in his body, which was slightly ridiculous. This one was changed. It was new. He had only had it for one night, why would he feel more comfortable in it?

His wand was lying on the ground, dangerously close to the puddle of piss. Thank Merlin for small mercies. He picked it up, and conjured a mirror. He might as well face the music.

The difference was startling. His hair, where it had been a kind of light black before, or at least light black compared to this black, was now black as pitch. It fell in almost feathery tufts around his face, framing it. His skin was pale as snow. His lips were red as blood. His eyes were still green. They had been extraordinarily green before, but now they paled in comparison. His eyes were a vivid green, which almost seemed to glow. His overall face structure had changed drastically. His face had become slightly narrower, and this combined with the shape of his nose and jaw made him look much more aristocratic.

Overall he had changed drastically. He doubted that if Ron or Hermione showed up right now they would even recognize him. He didn't even look human anymore. No human possessed features such as this. What was he? He had no idea. He had asked Dumbledore what inheritance he might get, and the man had had no idea. The Potters were not known for their creature inheritances. It had been dubious whether or not he would even get one. Well, he had certainly gotten one, and now he had no one to ask what he even was, and no way of researching it. Not that he would know what to research. Glowing, intense eyes? Pale skin? Blood red lips? Those weren't exactly specific of any one creature.

Regardless, he had no way of finding out, so he saw no point to focusing on it. He needed to find out where he was, find clean clothes, and then see if he could get a place to stay other than a dirty alley. He also needed food. He realized at that moment he was hungry. He would go so far as to describe himself as ravenous. The ache he felt was not from the change, it was an ache for **food. **His body was practically crying for it, and now that he realized it, he could not focus on anything else.

He shakily got to his feet, his hunger his only focus. He slipped out of the alley and started walking in one direction on the street. The street was empty of carriages and people now. He felt strangely disappointed of that fact, when he should be thankful. At this point people would be shooting him disgusted, wary, awed or fearful glances. He would look like a filthy ragamuffin if it weren't for this new face.

Then he smelt something. It wasn't heavenly, or even particularly appetizing smelling, but it sang to the hunger in him, and he followed it with single minded intensity. He reached it quickly, and grew slightly puzzled when he realized the smell came from a man. He was filthy, sleeping, sitting down and leaning against the wall in an alley. He was very obviously homeless. His puzzlement didn't last long, and he kneeled down next to the man, towards where he instinctively felt he could get to that tantalizing scent.

He leaned close to the man, his face only a foot away, and his mind blanked. He could only lean forward yet more, and cover the man's lips with his own. He felt it, then, a connection, like a thread, that led from his mouth to within. He pulled, and felt the thread start to pull toward him. It was not fast enough. He growled lowly and yanked as hard as he could. The thing at the end of the thread shot forward. It tasted of loneliness, hunger, and filth. There was no other way to describe it. It had no taste similar to what he had known before, and he found the food of before did not compare. This was rather foul, but the complexity more than made up for it.

His hunger sated, he leaned back, and gazing at the now dead man he had unthinkingly straddled. He was sitting in the man's lap, he realized. When had that happened? It occurred to him that he was not reacting normally to this. He was pretty sure he had just eaten a man's soul, yet he did not care. He did not even care that he didn't care. A man sat before him, dead, by his hand. Or, he supposed, his mouth. His lips curled up in amusement. That was not what he expected he'd use as a weapon if he killed a person. He had also expected to care. To have nightmares about it. To be human about it. He was not human. It was very simple, he supposed.

He stood up and left the body, his own no longer aching. His hunger had not centered at his stomach. That was new. His hunger was felt throughout his body now.

His emotions were dulled. He had not felt anything especially sharply since he woke up. He was oddly detached. He shouldn't be this calm or composed. He should be panicking, worrying, but his capacity to feel emotions was much less than that of a human.

As he walked, toward nothing in particular, he idly wondered what he was. He fed on souls, his emotions were dulled to the point where he could hardly feel them, and he was beautiful in a rather terrifying way. He had never heard of a creature like this, and he knew for a fact that his parents had not gone through this. There was no way. Someone would have noticed, as this was a very noticeable change. It did not really matter, though. Knowing the name of what he was would not change what he was.

He kept walking, putting it out of his mind for now. Looking down at his clothes, he sneered in distaste. They were filthy. With every step they chafed against his skin, which felt oddly tender. He needed clean clothes, he decided. Not just clean, but clothes that fit in. He would get dirty looks wearing this if it were clean or not. Ah, yes, and location. He still hadn't figured out where he was.

He would not find clean clothing on the street. He would also like to bathe. He would not be able to do this the normal way, due to no money or house, so he used his wand. "Scourgify." He waved his wand over his body. The dirt and grime disappeared, although he still felt rather grubby.

He could transfigure his clothing into something more suitable, but that would be impossible at this point. He would have to know what he was transfiguring them into in and out to make the change believable and permanent, and these clothes were too alien to him to be able to do that. He would have to steal clothes, he decided.

He could steal them from a tailor or a house. A tailor could have premade clothing, depending on if they waited on the rich or the poor. A house would have clothing, for sure, but it could or could not fit. He could always use a resizing charm, though. A house it was.

He eyed the houses along the street he was walking. They were not particularly nice, or disgusting, so he supposed this was as middle class as it would get. Which suited his needs perfectly. Nice enough clothes, not very good locks.

He noticed an open window on the second floor of the house on the corner. Convenient. They probably thought since it was on the second floor it did not matter if it were open or not. That would be true for most people, but he knew he could easily climb up to the window. He walked up to the wall and started climbing, applying a disillusionment charm on himself as he went. It felt like an egg cracked over his head, and his skin tingled slightly.

Reaching the window, he peered inside, his eyes cutting through the darkness with ease. They gleamed slightly as his eyes fell on a girl sleeping within the room. She looked about ten or eleven. Her soul smelled new. Purity fell off her in waves. There was nothing even remotely appetizing about it. He swung a leg over the sill and pulled himself inside silently, wondering if he even needed to bother with the disillusionment charm. It seemed rather pointless when he was sure everyone here was asleep, and he could easily move silently enough through the house to not wake anyone.

There was no chance there would be clothes in here to fit him or even suit him, as he was certainly not a girl, and so he walked on. A hallway stretched outside the door. Another door sat across from the girl's room, and he opened it. Inside was an office. He closed the door and moved on.

Down the hall and to the left was another door. He opened it. Jackpot. A man and a woman slept on the bed inside. These were definitely the girl's parents. The woman smelled of sickness and desperation. It was the first scent of a soul that had truly attracted him. The man smelled of greed, lust, and gluttony. He smelled even better. He allowed his eyes to drift closed, and savored the smells for a moment. They were like a buffet, laid out before him.

He drifted closer purposefully, leaning over the man and breathing in. Mmmmm. He was delicious smelling. It was truly hard to resist. It occurred to him, then, that perhaps he shouldn't resist. The police here could not catch him. They were jokes without DNA and blood typing at the least. His face drifted closer, his lips opening slightly to breathe deeper. The last of his conscious mind left and he sealed his lips over the man's, impatiently tugging hard. He wanted this soul more than he had wanted any other so far. Once the taste hit his tongue, he almost moaned. It was better than a seasoned steak. What, then, must a truly depraved soul taste of? He salivated just thinking about it.

The soul ended too soon. He wanted more. He walked to the other side of the bed and leaned over the woman, lips open in anticipation of her soul. An image, then, flashed in his mind of the little girl over in the other room. If he killed this woman, the girl would be parentless. With difficulty, he pulled back, slightly confused. Why should he care if the girl's parents were dead? No doubt she would be taken in by some family member or other.

He supposed this was what was left of his emotions telling him to care. It was strange how he had been changed for not even a day and already he felt so far from who he had been before. He just didn't care anymore. Or so he had thought. The image of the girl flashed through his mind again, along with the scent of her purity. If he were to kill the woman, the purity would be gone, covered completely in sadness and suffering.

He pulled back all the way, and went to the drawers of the dresser on the other side of the room. Inside were clothes about his size. His lip curled slightly at the sight of them. So many buckles and buttons, and so unsightly. He missed the simplicity of a button down shirt and slacks.

He puzzled through putting on the clothing, finally managing it after ten minutes. His clothing was simple, consisting of a black waistcoat, a white button down shirt underneath, with black trousers tucked into black boots. Perhaps not completely common but it was as far as he would go. He would not wear those ridiculous knee high socks with buckled flats. Besides, he truly doubted he could go incognito or be passed by with how he looked. No matter what he wore he would be memorable, so what was the point of dressing completely like them?

He walked out of the room and back down the hall, into the girl's room. The girl was still asleep. Her hair fanned out on the pillow behind her, her mouth opened in a pink 'o'. She was the picture of the innocent child. He felt a flash of guilt for the dead father in the other room, before it was gone as fast as it had come. He turned and jumped out the window, not looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

He landed silently and with no small amount of satisfaction. That had been remarkably easy. He would stop using magic for now, he decided. It made things less interesting and more boring. What was the fun of sneaking into someone's house if there was no chance of them discovering you?

He realized he was already making plans for future sneaking into other people's houses. To do so at night was an easy way to get souls. It was private, everyone was asleep, and he was sure he could remain quiet enough to get away with it. Of course, if they woke up, he doubted they could fight him off. He doubted anyone could fight him off. Climbing the wall had been evidence enough that he was strong and agile.

How fast was he now, anyway? He hadn't properly tested himself at all. That wouldn't do. He needed to know his limits. Fighting would be difficult if he didn't even know what he could do. He might not know what he had to defend himself against here, but that did not mean he could grow lax. At least Voldemort couldn't get to him here, no matter how hard he tried. He was pretty sure this is late 19th century London. Time travel of this caliber shouldn't be possible, yet here he was.

He wished that he had paid attention when Hermione went on her rants about magic. Now he had no idea how this could be possible. All he could think was of time turners, and those could only go back, at most, a week. He certainly hadn't used one, so how was he even here?

He started running, not really sure where he was going. He didn't know what to do. He was tense, he realized. Perhaps he was more stressed than he had thought. The running felt good. The restless burn he hadn't noticed under his skin lessened slightly. He ran faster. Everything was a blur now. He really was faster than any human could manage, and he wasn't even running at his maximum speed.

He needed a place to stay. The easiest thing he could think of was to find a house, kill whoever lived inside, and stay there until someone noticed that the people were missing. The only problem was it would work, at most, for a week. Ideally he would find a hermit with no friends. The chances of that were slim to none.

He needed money. Enough money to buy or rent from someone. It wouldn't be too difficult to simply rent from someone. Identities were fickle things in this time. He could find a landlord who wouldn't care who he was as long as he paid. It wouldn't be difficult. The difficulty was money.

He would have to steal, then. He could easily sneak into houses, he had already proved that. It would be child's play to sneak into houses and steal valuables. He could sell it all to pawn shops. There were probably many that would buy them knowing they were probably stolen. Few pawn shops had scruples when it came to stolen things.

He continued to run, only stopping at the nicer looking houses and entering. He stole jewelry, money, fine clothing, anything of value. It was easy to slip in and out. In one of the houses, he picked up a black leather bag, knowing he would need something to put the valuables in.

In one house, he found the most unusual jewel he had ever seen. It was in the shape of a sphere, with no edges to be found. It was black on the outside, but within it held what appeared to be green smoke. It swirled and twisted inside the jewel. Something radiated from it, something he had never felt before. He could not help but slip it over his head. He would keep this one. It was undoubtedly magical, anyway. No muggle should have such a magical object.

Soon enough the night was over, and dawn was creeping up. He stopped, then, and looked at what he had stolen. It was enough, he thought, to get him enough for at least a month in an inn. That is, if he got fair prices. There was every chance whoever he tried to sell all of this to would try to rip him off. It would be rather easy. He had no idea what the going rates were for things like this. He would have to try, at least.

The first two pawn shops were busts. The second they realized he was selling stolen goods they kicked him out. He hurried away from there as quickly as he could, aware that they might go get the nearest policeman.

The third, however, did not turn him away. The second his eyes fell on the jewelry and clothing he salivated. He smelled of greed and he certainly showed it. His offers came nowhere near the real value of the cache. Of course, they both knew that it was all stolen, and as a result Harry sincerely doubted that he would be able to find much better offers. After driving up the prices as much as he could, he left.

He had to find a place to stay, now. He had noticed a rickety yet respectable looking inn not too far back from the pawn shop. It was called _Silva Inn_, and would suit his needs perfectly if the innkeeper wasn't too discriminating.

He stepped into the inn, instantly silencing the patrons eating their dinner. Everyone stopped to stare, wide eyed, at the beautiful green eyed man who had stepped into the inn. No one quite seemed to remember that staring was not very polite. He eyed them all with indifference, and then cleared his throat, not at all pleased with the staring. Everyone seemed to shake themselves and go back to their conversations, although many still stole looks at him. It was obvious that he was now the talk of the room.

Harry approached who he assumed to be the innkeeper, a gruff man with a pot belly and a wild brown beard. The man smelled of greed and gluttony. He was cleaning a mug with a rather dirty looking cloth. Harry eyed it, wondering if it was really helping anything.

"And what does a pretty boy like you want in a place like this?" The man's voice was deep and would be rather menacing, he supposed, if he were the easily cowed type. Instead of cowering as the man seemed to expect, he smoothly replied "I would like a room to rent here indefinitely." The man seemed surprised at that, but hid it rather well.

"That'll cost ya, pretty boy." He nodded sharply, and asked "How much?" The man seemed to consider this for a moment before replying "1 pound a week."He nodded again, and thrust the amount at the man. "I'll take it." The man snatched the money up as if he were afraid he would change his mind any second and said "Follow me then." He started walking towards the stairs, ignoring the stares they got from the patrons as they went.

They were passing a particularly boisterous group of men when one of them called, "Oi, Micky, you're actually giving fairy boy a room? What is he, some noble man's son out to sneak a shag with a woman?" The other men started laughing at that, clapping the man on the back for his prodigious wit.

The man, who Harry realized must be 'Micky', ignored them and kept walking. Harry did the same. The man must not have taken kindly to being ignored, as he stood then, his chair scraping against the floor loudly. Suddenly, every eye that had been pretending not to look at Harry stopped pretending.

The man stepped forward, snarling "I don't take kindly to being ignored, fairy boy." The man was drunk, then. He was rather stupid, and Harry had a hard time imagining him as intelligent when he was sober.

He stared the angered man in the face, his own face completely blank. "I was under the impression that you were talking to him." He inclined his head towards the barkeep now dubbed Micky. The man's face darkened, as if he had just spat an insult into his face. Stupidity wafted from him in waves. Harry fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. He had a feeling the man wouldn't take that well.

Really, he had no idea why the man would choose to confront him, of all people. Did he have a death wish? If he really was some nobleman, it wouldn't be hard to make the man's life miserable. He was both lucky and unlucky on that front. Lucky, because he wasn't a nobleman, unlucky, because he was certainly not human and would have no problem killing him. He would rather not eat this one's soul, it was disgusting. It reminded him of the slop they fed pigs.

The man opened his mouth, presumably to spout more idiotic drivel, when Micky cut in. "Stop it, Grant. He's a customer. If you want to insult him for no reason, do it somewhere else." With that, he started walking again. Harry shrugged, and followed. He could feel the man's gaze burning into his back, and rolled his eyes. They were going to try to ambush him in an alley later, weren't they? He fought the urge to facepalm. Of course they were. They were certainly dense enough to do it.

He kept walking, making a note to expect them later. It would be easy enough to leave them as bloody lumps on the ground, but he would try to exercise restraint. It wouldn't do to have the police sniffing around here to find a murderer. No doubt 'that strange guy at the inn' would be mentioned. It would be just his luck, which had been decidedly bad lately considering where he was now.

So he would refrain from killing them. That didn't mean he couldn't warn them _painfully_ against further infractions, though. He smirked. The smirk was decidedly dark. Micky glanced back at him and felt a chill go down his spine at it. He wisely decided not to ask.

They climbed the stairs in silence. At the top of the stairs was a hallway lined with doors. The wood of the floor creaked as they stopped in front of the third door on the left. "This'll be your room, then." He inserted a key into the door, and it swung open on squeaky hinges.

Harry took in the room. It was simple, with a small twin sized bed in the corner, a bedside table, a dresser on the far wall, and a threadbare carpet. The man held out the key, and he took it. "Name's Mick, by the way. I didn't catch your name." Harry blinked at the man, not expecting the question. Mick had struck him more as the won't ask kind of guy. "That is because I didn't give it. If you must know, it's Pravus." He came up with the name on the spot, mentally patting himself on the back. He remembered that it was Latin for vicious. Rather appropriate.

Mick blinked at the unusual name, not really expecting it. The man had to be a nobleman. No commonfolk would have such a strange name. He shrugged and grunted. It wasn't his name, so he supposed he couldn't really complain. "I'll leave you to it then." He left, closing the door behind him.

Harry set his bag on the bedside table. It didn't have anything in it at the moment, due to his selling everything in it earlier at the pawn shop. Now he had nothing to do. His mental checklist had been done. He knew where he was, he had a place to stay, he had money enough to last for at least a week, and he had clothing.

He would need more money eventually, though. Stealing as he was doing was not really a long term solution to the problem. He frowned. It would be best to find a job, he decided. To do that, he would have to look around and see if anywhere was hiring.

He left the inn, noticing the man who had confronted him and his group was gone. Their scents of drunkenness and stupidity led out the door and to the left and ended around the corner. Waiting for him, then. Fun. Not.

He glanced at the corner they were all skulking around. What would they do if he walked right instead of left? The idiots probably hadn't considered it. Their plan was probably a genius, foolproof plan of epic proportions in their drunken minds. It occurred to him that he needed more words to described stupidity. Dull, senseless, brainless, moronic, simple minded? Puerile, he decided, was his favorite. They wouldn't even know they were being insulted if he used that one.

He turned left and walked over to the corner, turning to face them. They all wore surprised expressions on their faces; as if it were some grand secret of them being at this corner waiting for him that had no chance of being discovered. He stared at them, blank faced, to unnerve them. It seemed to work, as two of the brutes look away from his eyes, an uneasy look on their faces. "Come on, Grant" one of them murmured, seemingly deciding he didn't like the look on Harry's face, "Are you sure this is such a good idea?" The expression on Grant's face wavered for a moment before it hardened in apparent new resolve.

Harry sighed inwardly. It would seem they were forcing him to do this. Well, he couldn't say he didn't give them an out. He stayed still, prepared for a move from any one of the brutish men now surrounding him.

Grant was the first one to move. He stepped forward, swinging his fist around to try to hit Harry's face. Harry sidestepped neatly, and as the man went by him, propelled by the force of his punch, Harry pushed him, sending him sprawling to the ground. He hit the ground hard, and a crack could be heard from the alley, from the force of his jaw slamming into the ground.

They all stared, aghast, at Grant. Their downed comrade didn't seem to want to get up. He was lying on the ground, seemingly unconscious. Harry smirked. Perhaps he had used a bit too much force with that push? Ah, well, he still didn't know his own strength. It was a perfectly understandable mistake.

The other men, who hadn't really been into the fight in the first place, gathered Grant into their arms and hurried away without a word. They felt the eyes of the green eyed man burning into their backs as they walked away, and shivered, feeling dread up creep up their spines. That man was terrifying. They had no desire to fight him and avenge Grant. He was a hotheaded idiot, anyway.

Harry turned away from the men and was about to walk away when he heard clapping. He blinked. Clapping? It was slow and measured, and sounded rather sarcastic and amused. If clapping could be classified as such.

A man stepped out of the shadows of the alley, who he somehow hadn't noticed before. The first thing he noticed was he had no scent. The second thing he noticed was he was a strange looking fellow. His hair was pure white, and ran down to his waist. The bangs completely obscured his eyes, and all he could see of his face was a smirking mouth and a scar that ran from his right eye down his face. He wore a long black dress like robe, which slightly reminded him of what Snape wore. He also had a black top hat.

The man stopped his clapping and his lips curled up into a rather terrifying grin. "Fancy meeting a demon of all things here!" His voice was high and grating, with excited tones.

A demon? The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Why would it? He couldn't remember ever really reading about the characteristics of the creatures. He vaguely remembered reading in one book they were the epitome of evil, the darkest creatures in existence, starting wars and killing indiscriminately simply because they were bored. If he was a demon, it explained a lot, he had to admit. How this man knew, though, he had no idea.

"What do you mean?" His voice was a bit sharper than usual. The man seemed slightly taken aback at this, before his grin grew positively shark like. "You mean you don't know? Oh, this is positively delightful! I would be more than happy to tell you…if you would give me something in return?" His voice grew beseeching at the end, as if he was only going to ask for a small favor, and wouldn't he give it to him, please?

Harry narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. Who was he, anyway? He just comes out of nowhere and claims to know what he is. How would he even know? The only conclusion is that he's been watching him, which wasn't too farfetched, considering he had just come out of the shadows without him being aware he was there earlier. The man could hide from him, which no one else could do due to their soul. No one could cover up the scent of their soul. It was impossible. The only reasonable way he could have no scent was if he had no soul.

"What do you want? And who are you, anyway?" The man didn't seem put out by his tone at all, but practically vibrated where he was standing. "I've been looking for a good scout, lately. It's good to be informed in London, right? All you have to do is agree to be my information gatherer. With your talents of stealth, it shouldn't be too hard. I'll pay you, of course. And tell you about demons. What do you say?"

Harry had to admit the deal sounded good. If the man were telling the truth, he would have a job, a rather interesting one at that, and actually know what he was. Yet there was still the question of who the hell the man was.

"I accept. Who are you?" The man clapped delightedly and actually _cackled _while grinning like a madman. Harry stared, slack jawed. Was the man sane? Cackling, really?

The man spoke then, sounding pleased. "You may call me Undertaker. I'm your new boss. Follow me." He turned and started walking.

Harry blinked at his back. Every sign pointed to slight insanity, but the man was his best bet so far, so he might was well follow him. He sighed, and started following.


	4. Chapter 4

I suffered from a terrible case of writer's block for this chapter. I am not particularly happy about it, but after a bit of editing I would like to think its decent at least. I realized that not everyone knows what happened in Kuroshitsuji, as one of my reviewers pointed out, so I thought I would outline it for everyone:

- Ciel lost his parents.  
- Ciel makes a deal with Sebastian (a demon): his soul for the revenge of his parents' deaths and his humiliation at the hands of his kidnappers.  
- The deal then becomes a contract.  
- The concept of the contract is that Sebastian can have Ciel's soul in exchange of assisting him in the adventure to seek out his  
parents' killer, however, not anytime before that.  
- Until the time comes to retrieve his soul, Sebastian is to serve as Ciel's butler.  
- During a fight with Madam Red (Ciel's aunt) and Grell Sutcliff (a Grim Reaper), Sebastian injures his arm, the SAME arm that contains  
a tattoo on it. This tattoo is the mark of proof that they made a contract with one another. This same mark is located in Ciel's  
right eye, hence why he is always wearing the eyepatch.  
- Closer to the end of Season 1, they realize that an angel named Angela was the one responsible for the deaths of Ciel's parents.  
Upon finding out about this, they [Sebastian and Angela] duel, but the Phantomhive manor is burned down in the process, along with  
the streets of London.  
- At the VERY END of Season 1, Pluto, a guard dog of the Phantomhive Manor, loses his life, as he is controlled by Angela into  
destroying the manor and the streets of London, along with Madam Red, and Angela loses her wings and life thanks to Sebastian.  
- LAST EPISODE: Sebastian sits Ciel down and prepares to eat his soul...(In canon, he fails at this and gets Ciel's soul stolen by Claude, in my story, he succeeds and DOES eat Ciel's soul)

It was harder than I thought it would be to have Undertaker in this story. He seems like such an easy character to write, but due to his general strangeness, he is rather unpredictable, and in the anime he isn't seen that much. I tried my best.

* * *

When Undertaker stopped, Harry stared. The place he was taking him to was called 'Undertaker.' Really? Of course the man called himself after his profession. Who wouldn't? He had been planning on being a potter later in life anyway. They would have been beautifully created pots, of course.

He sighed. Why did he have to meet and agree to work for the crazy guy? Oh, right, he knew what he was. Well wasn't that just dandy.

"Why do you call yourself Undertaker?" The man just cackled and walked into the shop. He sighed and followed. The inside of the shop was dark and shadowy, but not so dark that if a human walked in they wouldn't be able to see anything. Coffins lined the walls, and one was laying down right in the middle of the floor. That wasn't creepy _at all._

Undertaker turned and stepped into the coffin, laying down and crossing his arms as if he were a dead body inside it. He sighed happily, as if he had been waiting to do this all day, and closed his eyes.

Harry stared and waited, expecting him to eventually say something. Nope, he just continued to lie there.

Rolling his eyes, he finally snapped "You're going to just lay there?" Undertaker opened his eyes and looked at Harry innocently. "What? You could have asked questions this whole time, you know." Then he giggled, as if what he said was particularly funny to him.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. This man was succeeding in getting on his nerves. He had a sneaking suspicion that was what he was aiming for, actually.

He opened his eyes and asked then "What exactly is a demon? I doubt the beliefs of the Church are very accurate." Undertaker cackled and nodded in agreement. "You would be right about that, little demon." He adopted a pseudo-serious look and his face and proclaimed "Demons are actually from hell. They got that right, at the very least. They have no souls themselves, and feed on souls for sustenance. If they do not feed on souls, they won't die, but they will weaken progressively until they are below even humans in strength. It takes over a human lifetime for a demon to get to that point, though, which is why it never happens. They are immortal, of course. They cannot die. It is impossible. They might have their human body unmade, but all this does is send them back to hell. There they regain their strength before returning to the human world."

He looked at me for a moment as if trying to judge something, then asked "How is it you don't know this? You are a demon, yet you have never been to hell. That much I can tell."

Harry didn't know if he should tell the truth or not. He honestly did not know how he could be a demon. The only explanation he could think of was dormant demon blood on either his dad's or his mom's side of the family. Actually, now that he thought about it, he had completely forgotten that the wizarding world was old. It would still be there around this time. He would go and find the Leaky Cauldron soon, he decided. For now, he had to stay and talk with the loon. The loon that knew things he didn't.

"I just woke up like this." There. The truth. It omitted many things, but it certainly wasn't a lie. Undertaker simply sent him a look that said it all. He knew it was a lie of omission and that Harry knew much more than that, but instead said "Interesting." He drew out the word with a rather leery expression on his face. Harry fought a shiver. The man sincerely creeped him out.

Then a thought occurred to him "How do you know so much about demons?" he demanded.

Suddenly, Undertaker leapt up and threw his arms wide, as if about to hug him. "I am… a reaper!" He crowed that out as if Harry was supposed to know what that was. He stared blankly at Undertaker. Undertaker got a sheepish look on his face. "You don't know what a reaper is either, do you?" Harry shook his head. Undertaker sighed.

"The Grim Reaper Dispatch Society is what I used to be a part of. Reapers are given lists of people whose souls they are to reap. When a reaper reaps a soul, they see that person's life before their eyes. It is a reaper's job to judge whether or not that person is allowed to continue living or if they will die."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, blankly staring at Undertaker. "If you were one of these 'reapers' then why are you here of all places talking to me?"

Undertaker smiled that shark like grin again and wagged his finger at Harry. "Tsk, tsk, that would be telling, little demon man." Harry growled at that, and Undertaker laughed.

"You agreed to be my informant, so go. Every day you will tell me something interesting, and I'll pay you for it. With that, he reclined back into his coffin, this time pulling the lid on.

Harry fought for a moment to make sense of him before deciding it was impossible. The man was illogical and annoying. Tell him something interesting every day? Was he really that bored? He supposed that was why the man had left the reapers. Their job sounded incredibly boring to him. He was very happy he was not a reaper. At least as far as demons went, they could have fun.

He shrugged and left. If Undertaker wanted something interesting, he would find him something interesting.

* * *

-Ten Years Later-

Harry stared at the man before him, his gaze unreadable. "You mean to tell me that the Phantomhives are dead and their son is missing?" The man nodded, eager to please Pravus. Harry had built up a fearsome reputation since arriving in London.

This complicated things. If the Phantomhives were gone, the power balance of the royals would shift dramatically. Undertaker would certainly be interested in hearing of this. He shoved the pounds into the man's hand. "You did well reporting this to me." Without another word he turned and strode away.

He shouldn't report this alone. He should find the boy before reporting back to Undertaker. He would ask him to find where the boy was, anyway.

He still had no idea what Undertaker did with the information he brought him. He knew that he sold some of it, but most of it he had no idea. He didn't really care. Undertaker paid him, and on top of that, other people sought him out for information too. He was notorious in the London underground for knowing everything about anything. If someone wanted to know something, they would come to him.

He would seek out Vivienne. She was the most likely to know. She owned a the most sought after brothel in the area. It was astonishing how much information men let slip in the heat of passion and lust. The woman might be difficult to get the information out of, though. She seemed set on sleeping with him. It was irritating, most of the time. While Vivienne was beautiful, he had discovered long ago that his tastes tended more towards men.

He stalked the streets, the stars shining above him. He liked the night. It was very good at shining moonlight on everyone's dirty little secrets. Some were quite amusing. He had learned just the other day that Reginald Fairwhether, a very plump duke, had bribed a servant to tell no one about his overeating habits. Really, the man's own body showed more than enough evidence, he didn't know why the man bothered.

He came to the brothel and entered without hesitating. The scantily clad girls glanced at him then quickly away. They knew what he was here for. He ignored them and walked to Vivienne's office, entering without knocking.

She sat at her desk, writing in a pocketbook. A glass of red wine sat next to her. She looked up, and he noted the slight flush in her cheeks. She was tipsy. He sighed inwardly. While he most commonly dealt with her in this state, as she seemed determined to stay in a constant state of inebriation, he preferred her sober. When she was sober she was at least subtle about her advances.

When he entered she looked up, and instantly her entire face lit up. "Pravus! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" She batted her eyelashes at him. Inwardly cringing, Harry replied "I've heard tell that the Phantomhives are dead, and their son presumed dead." She nodded, affecting a sad look on her face. "Yes, I heard of that. Dreadful news, that. Poor family."

He ignored her feigned sadness. "I don't believe the boy is dead. In fact, I believe he is alive and being held by persons unknown." Here, he watched her face for any kind of emotion. Surprise flickered across her face followed by a coy look he knew to recognize. Here he braced himself.

She stood next to him and walked her fingers up his chest, staring at his face from underneath her eyelashes as she did so. She shamelessly scrunched her chest up to his. "If I were to tell you who has the boy, what would you give me?"

He caught her other hand, which had come dangerously close to his crotch. "I will pay you as I always do." The warning in his eyes was clear.

She stepped back and pouted, but otherwise didn't say anything about his rejection, to his relief.

"Ciel is in the hands of Cristoff Ventur. As far as I know, the man intends to use him as his servant. I don't know where Ventur is keeping him, but I would guess as his manor."

Harry nodded and handed her the money, before turning away and walking out. He exited the brothel and started the trek back to Undertaker's.

This was interesting. Ventur was not known for having a cruel streak, so why he would have Ciel Harry didn't know. In any case, this would certainly qualify as Undertaker's interesting thing for the day.

He stepped into the shop, eyeing the coffin apprehensively. Every time he came into the shop the man was either in some dark corner or in the coffin. It was disturbing. He had gotten used to it a long time ago, but that didn't mean he wasn't still wary of Undertaker. The man might act harmless, but he was anything but, of that he had no doubt.

The lid of the coffin fell to the side and Undertaker rose out. Instantly he was in Harry's face, a gleeful smile on his own face. "Oooooh, I can tell you have something especially interesting to tell me today. What is it?"

"The Phantomhives are dead and their mansion has burned to the ground. Their son, Ciel, has gone missing. He is presumed dead, but I have heard tell the boy is alive. He is being held as a slave by Cristoff Ventur." He listed this off emotionlessly, watching Undertaker warily.

"You mean the Queen's guard dogs are gone? And little Ciel, being held as a slave of all things? Oh, this is rich. The spoiled little boy has lost his innocence so soon. Find him and observe." He ordered. "There is more to this, I can tell. Why would a man like Ventur have the boy as a slave, when he has no known pedophilic tendencies and he has so many servants? Go, and report back to me later. But don't save the boy. I simply want to know what happens."

Harry nodded, staying silent. Undertaker clapped and did a little jig. "This is going to be fun, I can just tell. Now run along, Pravus, be a good little demon." He blinked blankly and Undertaker, unperturbed by the intended insult. Undertaker had tried to get a rise out of him since he met him. He had succeeded at first, but eventually Harry had learned to not be bothered by him, and if he was, to blank his face and hide it. He had to admit that hiding his emotions was one of the better skills he had learned since his arrival here.

He exited the store and started walking in the direction of Ventur's mansion. It was well known, as the man held many parties there. It would be the easiest place to start looking for Ciel. It would usually take at least three hours to reach the house deep into the country, but at his top speed running he could easily get there within the hour.

He passed into the sparser part of London, where the houses were fewer and had more in between. Eventually he passed from that and into the country side. He ran for an hour until he came upon Ventur's house. It was opulent and overdone, like most noble estates.

He strode across the lawn, silent as a shadow, and walked up to the back door. He tried it, and the handle wouldn't budge. Locked. He took out a set of lockpicks and inserted two into the lock. All it took was some maneuvering and the lock clicked. He tried the handle and it swung open. The door led into the kitchen. It was dark with no one there.

He stepped inside the closed the door quietly behind him. He searched the first floor of the mansion, finding no one. He came across a door that led to the basement and huffed in amusement. He could hear many voices coming from down there, piquing his curiosity.

He silently descended the stairs, sticking to the shadows. When he arrived at the bottom he fought to keep from laughing, but he knew amusement danced in his eyes.

A huddle of people all sat in a circle. They all wore robes and hoods with veils. In the middle of the circle lay Ciel, with a blanket draped over his obviously naked body. Underneath Ciel was a ritualistic looking circle, with the pentagram in the middle. Over Ciel was a middle aged man, holding a ritualistic dagger. He held it over Ciel, while he and the people around him chanted in Latin.

He felt the chant in his very bones. It was a ritual to summon a demon. These people were truly stupid. He had met some idiots in his time, but these people took the cake. They took it and danced on it. He fought to keep laughter in again. They were all going to die. Of that he was sure.

None of them had noticed him. They were all too focused on the little boy. He breathed in deeply and froze. The boy's scent was heavenly. He radiated coldness, suffering, depression, with an underlying hint of tenacity. The boy was laying here with a dagger poised over his heart and he still had not given up life in his mind. The boy instantly intrigued him. Perhaps he would feed from the boy. He would hate for a soul such as that to go to waste. He waited patiently for the ritual to end.

The chanting ended and the man pushed the dagger down, as if to pierce Ciel's heart. The boy cried out and his eyes closed, waiting for death. It didn't come.

What did come was a hand shooting out of nowhere, clasping the man's hand that held the dagger. The man's eyes bugged out as he stared at the other man who had stopped it just above Ciel's heart.

Harry licked his lips. The demon they had summoned was mouth wateringly good looking. He had hair as black as raven's feathers, with eyes as red as blood. The demon gazed at the man with a condescending smile that screamed 'you're going to die now.' The man seemed to be smart enough to read the message, as he released the dagger and tried to scramble backwards.

The demon caught the dagger before it could pierce Ciel. He shot a look at the man as if scolding a naughty child. The demon bent down and whispered to the boy. Harry was sure he and the boy were the only ones able to hear the demon's words. "Would you like me to kill them?" The demon's voice was as smooth as butter. It sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

The boy seemed wary about saying yes, as he stared at the demon disbelievingly. The demon tsked and said "It is a simple question. Yes, or no?" The boy finally hesitatingly nodded yes. The demon smiled wickedly and in a few flashes of movement, had the dagger through the fat man's heart. Screams rang out as the demon killed every last human in the room except for Ciel.

The demon dropped the heart he had ripped out of the last person's chest and went back over to the boy. As he walked his eyes locked with Harry's, and he thought he saw amusement and something else he couldn't read in the ruby depths. At that point Harry decided it was time to leave. The boy was the demons now. He turned and left.


	5. Chapter 5

This is the longest gap I've had in between chapters. Its mainly because I finally got The Wolf Among Us and all the episodes, so of course I had to play the entire thing. On top of that, romance isn't my area, so I didn't really know how to portray romance between anyone, much less Harry and Sebastian. I guess I managed.

I never really thought that many people would read this, but here I am with 250+ followers and half as many favorites. Thank you, guys! It means a lot that you actually like my writing enough to want more. So...here's more. Woohoo!

* * *

Harry stared at the burning city. This was chaos. Complete and total chaos. Fire raged everywhere. People ran screaming. To think that Ciel's story ended with this of all things. The boy had a knack for spreading chaos without even meaning to.

He had kept himself updated on Ciel's vengeance fuelled quest. The boy was remarkably intelligent. Truly, if this is what he could accomplish at 13, he delighted in imagining what sort of chaos he could sow as an adult.

Sadly, the interesting story was drawing to a close. The angel, Angela, who had killed his parents was being killed by Sebastian, as informants had told him the demon was called. She would die soon; she was no match for a demon of Sebastian's caliber.

He considered what to do once this was over. Sebastian would finally eat Ciel's soul. It would be his last chance to approach the demon. While he had kept himself updated on Ciel's progress, he had not personally seen Ciel or Sebastian since the night at Ventur's house. He was sure that Sebastian knew he had watched the entire story pan out, though. If Sebastian had any interest in him he would come to him.

It was decided. He would wait and see if Sebastian would approach him. If he didn't the demon wasn't interested. He would be disappointed if such a thing were to occur, but it wasn't like the world would be ending.

So decided, he sat on the roof, far from the flames, and continued watching the city of London burn. The flames were mesmerizing. They flickered and twisted through the air in a perverse sort of dance.

He had no idea how long he sat there staring at the flames. Eventually, they died out, and the screams were replaced by the wails of the injured. The scent of burned flesh and wood was heavy in the air. He could smell the souls, too, filled with so much pitiful terror. He felt no satisfaction from the smells or sounds, but rather a cold indifference. Many people may be dead, half of London may be burned to the ground, but humanity would go on. To these people it seemed like the end of the world, but it wasn't. This event was but a drop in the bucket.

He was disturbed from his ruminations by a sudden displacement of air behind him, and smirked. So it was mutual after all.

"You decided to come then?"

"How could I not? A delightful creature such as yourself…" Sebastian was suddenly in front of him, his face very close to Harry's own.

"What is your name, little demon?" he purred. Harry's breath hitched slightly at the tone, and from the smirk on Sebastian's face he had noticed.

"Harry."

Sebastian cocked his head, his eyes boring into Harry's own. "And here I thought it was Pravus." Harry shrugged. "I don't like people knowing my actual name." What went unsaid was he had already trusted Sebastian with the information. The demon smiled. "I can understand that sentiment."

A demon's true name could be used by humans to summon them. This fact gave them an instinctual aversion to sharing their true name.

"You realize, Harry, that this is the start of my courting?" His eyes sparkled slightly, and Harry could sense he was anticipating this. Harry looked down and started fiddling with his hands, reluctant to say he knew next to nothing about demon mating habits. He had no idea what this would entail.

Sebastian seemed to understand this after a moment, for he chuckled. "Demons have life mates, Harry. We do not take a partner lightly, because when we do, it is for our entire life. Demons are immortal, so that is quite a long time."

Harry's brow furrowed slightly. "We barely know each other though…why would you already be courting me then?"

Sebastian seemed amused. "Harry, have you truly felt a stirring of lust or passion for someone since you became a demon?" Harry considered it for a moment. He had tried sex, yes, but mainly out of curiosity. It had been rather lacking so he had simply thought not to do it anymore. When he had been human, he was too young to feel much of anything, then, either. He shook his head. "No. Not until I saw you."

Sebastian nodded, as if he had been expecting this. "When demons feel a true stirring of lust or passion, it is incredibly rare. We only feel it with other demons, and even then it only happens to two out of a hundred. Demons who feel this always end up in a relationship together as life mates. How could they not? We may not know each other well now, but I have lived a very long time. I will not let this pass me by so easily."

Harry nodded and they both fell silent.

He could feel Sebastian's eyes scrutinizing him from the side. "You haven't eaten in a while, have you?" Harry shook his head. Sebastian sighed and said "Come along, then. I can't in good conscience let you stay hungry."

He held out his hand and Harry took it. They both jumped from the roof and landed lightly. Sebastian gestured with a hand for Harry to lead. He started walking at a leisurely pace, breathing deeply and searching for a soul that smelled appetizing. Sebastian strode next to him, not saying a word.

Harry had to admit, he had not seen this coming. He had known when he saw Sebastian that he was the first person he had felt truly attracted to since his transformation, but he hadn't known the importance of such a thing. He had to admit that the prospect of living forever, living in a constant cycle of earth, hell, earth, hell, had been daunting. Yet now he had Sebastian. Sebastian would be with him wherever he went. He would not have to be alone.

Sebastian had been alone for a while, he realized. He did not know if he had been lonely or not, though. He knew if it was him he would have been lonely at first, but eventually it would probably fade, or at least he would be so used to it he wouldn't feel it anymore.

Everyone needed companionship. Even demons. They might be less sensitive than humans, but that did not mean they weren't prone to any emotions at all.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a scent that was at least partially appetizing. It was far from the best he'd had, but he was hungry, so he decided to eat it anyway. He picked up the pace, Sebastian easily keeping up. He stopped in front of his chosen prey. She was a woman, and she was obviously dying. Half her face was badly burnt. She had evidently been caught in one of the many fires that had spread throughout London.

He stepped forward and knelt down, staring into her face. Her eyes were wide open, and she was staring at him. He ignored the panic stricken look on her face and covered her lips with his own. She made a muffled protest, which he also ignored. He plucked on the string of her soul, coaxing instead of pulling. He had noticed that when you had a soul come to you instead of pulling, it tasted better and lasted longer as nourishment. Besides that, he did not want to look like a complete amateur to the obviously old demon watching him feed from the woman.

The soul finally reached the woman's mouth, and he finally pulled, albeit gently. The soul slipped from her mouth to his. It tasted mostly of sorrow, but it tasted decent enough.

He slipped away from her, turning away from the now dead body and absent-mindedly licking his lips. He froze when he noticed the rather heated gaze of Sebastian, focused completely on his lips.

He leaned forward until his face was directly in front of Harry's. Harry's breath hitched slightly as he felt Sebastian's breath on his lips. Sebastian smirked and leaned forward more, brushing his lips across Harry's own. They left a pleasant buzz behind, and Harry surged forward, covering Sebastian's lips with his own and kissing him forcefully. Sebastian wasted no time and kissing him back.

Finally Harry leaned back, slightly abashed. He hadn't meant to do that, but he couldn't really find it in himself to regret. That had been extremely pleasant. Much better than any kiss he'd had before. Sebastian himself looked very satisfied.

Harry suddenly said "I want to leave London." Surprise flashed in Sebastian's eyes, before he replied "Of course. This place has gotten rather boring. Where would you like to go?"

He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. For Harry, it was different. He had never left England except to go to Hogwarts. He was tired of this place, though. Without Ciel it would get rather boring around here again. Undertaker had disappeared weeks ago. The bastard had probably seen this coming.

"I don't really know. I've only ever been out of England once, and that was for a boarding school." He frowned.

"That's fine. We'll go wherever you want to. Why don't we start with France? ." Harry nodded. He had always wanted to see France. "How are we going to get there?"

Sebastian simply smirked.

They took a ship out of London to France. They crossed the Strait of Dover to Colais, a French town. The journey took only a few days. The water was calm and he and Sebastian simply took the time to get to know each other more.

Once they arrived in Colais they spent a day simply wandering and seeing the sights. There wasn't really much to see in the town and so they moved on, traveling to Versailles. Along the way they stopped at Amiens and Beauvais, two more French towns.

In the towns Harry noticed the people. He had expected bustling cheerfulness, but everyone was quiet and withdrawn. Many were stricken with poverty. They had to stop many a pickpocket from snatching away the money in their pockets. It wasn't too difficult, as no human could sneak up on them, but it got exasperating after a while.

It reminded him somewhat of Diagon Alley during the war. People hurrying, trying to accomplish their business then getting home as soon as possible, where there was at least some semblance of safety, if only in their minds. He didn't like it, and it put him on edge. "Perhaps" he said to Sebastian "We should have at least checked on what's been happening lately in France." Sebastian shrugged. "Isn't it more interesting finding out this way? It's so boring if you come prepared for it." Harry glared at Sebastian. "We have no idea what's going on. For all we know they're at war and some enemy country is invading at this very moment. I would rather know than go into it blind. That's idiotic."

Sebastian didn't answer, and Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't speak French, so it wasn't like he could ask someone. He couldn't read it, either, so it wasn't like he could pick up a newspaper.

He picked a forgotten one up off the bench anyway, and read the headline:

"_Robespierre Du Comité De La Sécurité Publique Exécute Contre-Révolutionnaires"_

He blinked. That actually was very easy to translate to English if one took every word to be cognates of each other, then it would mean something like this:

"_Robespierre of the Committee of Public Safety Executes Counter Revolutionaries"_

It would explain why everyone was acting as if they were in a war zone. It sounded as if the man were executing people left, right, and center. 'Counter revolutionaries' was an exceedingly vague term.

He was slightly looking forward to what they might find in Paris, then. It would be interesting, at the very least. He had been getting rather bored just roaming the French towns and watching the poverty and riches pass by.

France was similar to England in that sense. The gap between the classes was very noticeable and very obvious. The wealth people were very obviously rich, and the poverty stricken commoners were very obviously poverty stricken commoners. The middle class, the bourgeois, were better off than the common folk, but the gap was still rather wide between them and the wealthy people. It might have incited some type of anger in him, if he were prone to care about others anymore. It did disgust him, though, how the wealthy hoarded their money as if they were dragons with gold, and spent it on paltry, useless items.

They continued on through France until they reached Paris. When they got there, Harry didn't really feel much other than amusement and slight disgust.

Maximilien Robespierre was a right bastard. The streets of Paris were in shambles. Everyone looked as if they had not a penny to their name.

They reached the center of Paris and Harry stared. There were literally pyramids made of skulls littered throughout the square. In the center of all of it was a very used looking guillotine. At that very moment a man knelt in front of it. His head rested on the chopping block under the blade of the guillotine.

Crowds of people littered the square, keeping a wide berth around the skull piles. A man dressed in an overdone military outfit stood in front of the guillotine. Harry could only assume this was Robespierre. It seemed they had stumbled across a complete mockery of a trial. It seemed more like a dramatized show than anything. Robespierre was in the middle of listing the charges, apparently.

"-a été accusé de l'obstruction de la liberté du peuple français."

Harry could not really understand what he was saying, with the accent, but it seemed to be along the lines of "accused of the obstruction of liberty" lines that he had seen in the paper.

He momentarily wondered how he had not known about this. This kind of thing would be rather infamous in muggle history. Then again, Hogwarts did not teach any kind of real history. The best he had gotten was a very in depth explanation on goblin wars that he had never even paid attention to. He would have to remedy that. He would be living through muggle history, now, but it would still do to study what had happened before.

Beyond that, he had neglected his learning greatly at Hogwarts. He had let Ron influence him too much. The boy had been his first friend, and he had followed his example of laziness.

He would search and study various magics around the world, then. He was traveling anyway, so it would be convenient for him. He would have to tell Sebastian, though, of where he had come from. He was planning on that anyway, even if this was a bit soon.

"We should go" he said, his eyes finally leaving Robespierre. He had no desire to stay here. It was interesting at first, but it would simply be repetitive now. He had no doubt that this happened daily. The amount of skulls he had seen showed that the man was on the warpath. He was an insane zealot. Why they followed him, allowed him to do all of this, he didn't know.

Sebastian nodded. "Where should we go next then?"

"You don't get to choose this time."

He nodded and smiled, seemingly perfectly fine with that idea. Harry looked at him slightly suspiciously, but decided to let it go.

"I think I would like to-" He didn't finish his sentence, because in that moment, the blade of the guillotine was let loose, and the man's head felt into the bucket waiting in front of the guillotine. Blood sprayed everywhere. Harry wrinkled his nose slightly. He had no love for gore. It got into everything and was very difficult to get out.

"This isn't the place. Come on." They walked along the street. As he walked, Harry reached out with his magic, trying to find the entrance to France's version of Diagon Alley. It took a few minutes, but he finally felt a ping on his magic. He stopped Sebastian with a gesture, and started walking the general direction of the magic he felt.

It took around an hour to get there by walking, but they got there eventually. It was just a piece of wall, similar to the divider of Platform 9 ¾. It was spelled with muggle repelling charms, and if he hadn't felt the magic emanating from it, he wouldn't have known it was a gateway into the magical world.

Sebastian stared at it, looking slightly puzzled. Harry knew he wasn't magical at all. As a demon, though, he might still be able to feel as if something were unique about the wall. He winked at Sebastian then stepped through the wall, trying not to laugh. He knew Sebastian would have a priceless look on his face after seeing him step through the wall. He knew that Sebastian would probably follow him after seeing him do it, so he stood and waited for a moment.

Sebastian stepped through the wall, and his eyes widened impossibly upon seeing what was on the other side. The shopping alley stretched down the street, and people were bustling everywhere. Witches and wizards dressed in brightly colored robes walked down the street without a care. It was obvious that they weren't affected by the muggle's tyranny here.

Sebastian zeroed in on Harry and stepped toward him. "What is this? I have never even heard of…" He trailed off, as if he didn't even know what to call all of this.

Harry smiled, enjoying the moment, as one didn't see Sebastian speechless _ever. _The fact that he had managed it would be forever a source of pride for him.

"This is the magical side of France. The people here wield wands and manipulate an inner energy, commonly referred to as magic, to make things happen. I came from the British version of this. Except, well..." He didn't really know how to start telling Sebastian he came from a completely different time, and that once they reached that time he would probably have to something like kill Voldemort, all because of a stupid prophecy. He snorted. Maybe if he ignored it the thing would go away? He didn't really hold out any hope for that.

"Except what?"

Harry stopped, then, and took out his wand. He cast a strong privacy charm so that they couldn't be overheard. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at the magic but didn't comment, instead seeming to wait for his words.

"The one I came from was in 1995."

He stared at Harry, his face unreadable. Harry felt an urge to shuffle his feet and look down, but resisted and kept eye contact. Eventually Sebastian sighed and shook his head. "No one has managed to surprise me in a millennia, but it seems you've managed it twice today. Congratulations."

Harry smirked at him. "Someone has to keep you on your toes." He snorted. "If you're from 1995 then, how did you get here?"

Harry shook his head. "I honestly don't know. I was waiting for my seventeenth birthday and just showed up here out of the blue. I blacked out and next thing I know I'm a demon."

"You have no idea how you got here or how you're a demon?"

"Well, I know how I'm a demon. Kind of. But yes, I have no idea how I got here."

He looked at him incredulously. "How do you know how you're a demon if you just became one out of nowhere?"

"Because the seventeenth birthday for wizards is called their 'inheritance.' On that day we become legal adults, but magically we come into the rest of our power. Wizards have been known to have latent creature blood become active due to the influx of the rest of a wizards magic. I'm positive the Potters, my family, had demon blood somewhere in there. I'm just the first wizard magically powerful enough to activate it."

Sebastian blinked, seeming to file all of that away for future reference, and said "I see." He actually sounded pretty uncertain, which was a first for him. Harry realized that this really was the first time he had been truly surprised in a long, long time. It had to be unsettling for him.

"That isn't all."

"Oh? It isn't? Isn't that just positively pleasant." Sebastian's voice got rather sarcastic toward the end. Harry winced slightly.

He told him how he had been hunted by Voldemort. How there was a prophecy that foretold that one of them had to kill the other. How his life had been before he came to this time.

By the end of it Sebastian was incensed. A cold rage burned in his eyes. He grasped Harry's chin, and said with a carefully controlled voice "It seems to me that your supposed friends and allies all used you. What do you say we teach them a lesson when we reach the 90's, hmm? As for this Voldemort" he sneered "No one hurts you. I'll rip his heart out before he can try."

Harry smiled. "Thank you" he whispered. He had to admit, no one had seemed to care for him this much before. Ron had always been at least a little jealous and resentful, Hermione had always seemed to prefer nagging to helping. But Sebastian truly cared. He surged forward and kissed him. Sebastian instantly kissed back, pulling Harry's body flush against his own.

Harry groaned, feeling arousal coil in his gut. He pulled away from the kiss and rested his forehead against Sebastian's, still smiling. "What do you say we go rent a room at an inn, hmm?" Sebastian's voice was a low purr. Harry shivered and nodded.

* * *

I really had no idea what to do with them until they reach Harry's time, so I decided to insert them into history. The French Reign of Terror was always fascinating for me, so I thought I would put it in despite the fact that it was over by the time Harry met Sebastian. I put it in anyway (my story, shush.)


	6. Chapter 6

This chapter took a long time too. I kept writing, and every time I looked at the word count I was like wait...this feels like so much more than only xxxx words. I was asked a few questions, and when one person asks a question, people are probably wondering.

1. No, there will be no Claude. I HATE love triangles. With a freaking passion. I have no desire to turn this into Twilight. Harry will not be the annoying damsel trying to choose between Broody #1 and Broody #2. Seb/Harry is the final pairing, and they get together fairly quickly with no angst at all. I like it that way.

2. No, this fic will probably not become M. I have no intention of writing smut. I will imply several times of them having sex, and maybe have them be interrupted in a scene (I like this idea...Dumbledore finding out about their relationship by walking in on them...ha). Just assume they have sex regularly, I'm not going to have them say "Oh, that sex last night was awesome!" Every morning just so you guys can know they had it...thats not normal.

3. People pointed out my last chapter wasn't historically accurate. I was completely aware of this, but I decided I didn't care (creative license, dur). That said, it seems to confuse people on the timeline. They are now in the year 1900. I will keep it historically accurate from here on, and I do intend to have them inserted into history again. Thats about all I can do until they reach Harry's time. The true plot I have planned out doesn't start until then.

Oops. Rambling. Thank you for reading this fic, and if you stuck through this authors note congratz. I am rather long winded.

Kneazles: Kneazles are cats. In HP canon, Crookshanks, Hermione's cat, was one. They are extremely intelligent, rather good at sneaking, and have a penchant for spying on people and discovering secrets. I assumed everyone would know what a kneazle was from reading HP. My bad.

* * *

"Is he alright?" The question was asked rather doubtfully, as if the woman didn't know if she should be asking or not. Harry simply shook his head, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Sebastian with kneazles was the most adorable yet hilarious thing he had ever seen. He would squeeze it to death while cooing, and it would hiss and claw to get away. Cats and Sebastian, he thought, had a love-hate relationship. For a man who loved cats, he didn't seem to understand holding them that tightly was uncomfortable for them and made them want to claw his eyes out.

Of course, while cats could be smart on occasion, kneazles possessed an almost human like intelligence. Which meant these could retaliate and plan defensive maneuvers. An example of this was Sebastian, being assaulted by every kneazle in the shop right now. Harry winced slightly. That looked rather painful. Sebastian looked like he was torn between delight and hitting them to get them off of him. His love of cats was rather obsessive, Harry decided, when Sebastian simply let the cats continue the assault.

Harry reigned in his laughter, but amusement still shone on his face as he said "Sebastian, do you really have to squeeze to death all of the kneazles? I don't think they like it."

Sebastian looked at him rather forlornly. "I can't help it, Harry. Their movements are so graceful, their bodies are so lithe. They are beautiful."

Harry snorted. "If I didn't know any better, I would think the cats have taken my place in your heart. Come on." Sebastian sighed, long suffering, but complied.

They walked down the lane of shops, Harry marveling at how similar it was to Diagon Alley. The alley really had been severely outdated if it was so like this alley in the year 1900.

The wardrobe of witches and wizards was much more different and similar at the same time. There was much more frills and lace than his time. It made him yearn for the simplistic, modern robes. Both he and Sebastian were forced to buy robes to fit in and not garner strange looks in muggle-wear, but the robes were stifling and irritating.

Sebastian somehow made the robes look dashing. Harry had no idea how, but he was rather resentful of it. Sebastian just kept smiling smugly. Harry was pretty sure that he looked like Ron when he was forced to go to the Triwizard Ball with hand-me-down robes. He shuddered slightly at the mental image. That had been mentally scarring, picturing that. Perhaps he didn't look quite as bad as that.

"As interesting as this place is, what are we doing here?" Sebastian inquired. Harry shrugged. "I just wanted to see it. On top of that, I neglected my education quite a bit before I came here. Even now, I haven't bothered to learn any new magic. I would like to find a teacher, perhaps some books, to teach me. Now, I have no restrictions. I can learn what I like. I think some dark magic is prudent."

Sebastian look slightly surprised. "Magic is restricted?" Harry laughed. "Oh, very much so. The British Ministry of Magic, that is the wizarding government of Britain, was controlled by a bunch of imbeciles and fools. They were afraid of anything they didn't understand or thought could harm them. When Voldemort returned, Minister Fudge completely denied everything. He went so far as to call Dumbledore and me insane. Any magic classified by the ministry as Dark was completely prohibited. There is a rather big stigma to Dark magic."

He sighed. "Which reminds me. Magical creatures have little to no rights within the law. I had an uncle, a werewolf-"

"Yes, Lupin, you told me of him."

Harry nodded. "He couldn't even find a job. The only one who would take him was Dumbledore, and even then, at the end of the year when everyone knew he was a werewolf he was forced to resign and look elsewhere for work. Magical creatures are looked at as lower things, to be stepped on and limited. I'm fairly certain this applies to demons."

Sebastian merely shrugged. "They may try what they like. We can always kill the lot of them." He smiled wickedly.

Harry merely shook his head. "You know that's just too…easy. I would rather have some fun with it first."

"I know. I still want to rip out their spines and shove them down their own throats, though. It would be rather satisfying."

Harry laughed. "Yes, it would."

They continued on walking, simply observing the people and shops. Harry kept a sharp eye out for the more black market side of things. In Diagon it had been Knockturn Alley and alleys branching from it, here it was sure to be similar. That would be the simplest place to find the things he was looking for. Of course, if they were smart, it wouldn't be quite as obvious as Knockturn Alley. He had always wondered why they had made it so obvious what was down the alley. It just screamed 'This is where all the illegal things happen!'

They walked for quite a while, every once in a while stepping into a shop that had caught their attention. They had no galleons, so they couldn't buy anything. They would have to convert their pounds to magical currency; otherwise they wouldn't be able to pay for anything.

Harry caught sight of a man. He was walking as normally as everyone else, but there was awareness to his stance that made it obvious he was more than a common wizard. Harry, with the honed senses of a man who had sold information for ten years, knew that he was most likely involved in whatever wizarding underground they had here.

He murmured "Sebastian, the man." Sebastian followed his gaze and saw the man. He nodded, and together the two followed him.

The man walked for a good ten minutes before finally reaching an alley that branched off to the side. There was no large discernable difference between that alley and the main one. It appeared quite similar.

The man walked down it, and they continued to follow. He made no turns for a while, only walking forward. Eventually he found another side alley, and turned off into this one. This continued for a few minutes, with him walking forward then turning after a while. As they went the building grew more dilapidated and imposing, and more questionable looking people appeared.

Harry smirked. It hadn't been hard, after all, to find this place. It would be rather difficult, though, to retrace their steps. This alley was certainly harder to find than Knockturn.

Harry considered stopping his pursuit of the man, before discarding the idea. The man had been useful, and he looked competent enough. He might very well still be useful. Harry glanced at Sebastian. "Should we approach him and ask if he knows of a teacher, or should we have a look around?"

Sebastian turned a thoughtful gaze on the man. "It would be quicker to ask him, if we can get a real answer out of him. That will be the difficult part."

Harry nodded, knowing that to be true. People were always reluctant to answer questions about illegal things, lest they incriminate themselves. Harry himself was always careful who he told his information, although several times he had been approached by police as either a suspect or for information. It had been rather amusing, at the time.

Now, it would be annoying. He had no patience for weaseling anything out of anyone today. Using speed he usually kept hidden behind a human façade, to the man he seemed to simply appear in front of him, out of nowhere.

Sebastian followed him, appearing by him a second later. The man stopped, seemingly surprised to suddenly have his way blocked by these two men.

Harry let Sebastian speak, as he was the only one of them who knew French. He would have to learn it, he decided. He didn't want to sit and let Sebastian do all the talking with him only understanding the words that sounded close to their English counterparts. He wondered, briefly, if there was a translation spell. It would be incredibly useful, if that were the case. He resolved to try to find something of the sort.

He tuned out what Sebastian said, knowing he wouldn't be able to understand it. Instead, he let the words flow across his ears. Sebastian's voice was truly beautiful. It was deep and soft, and seemed to caress his ears. He was pulled out of his reverie by Sebastian.

"Pravus."

He blinked. "Yes?" He tried not to think about what he had just gotten lost thinking about.

Sebastian looked amused, and Harry couldn't help but feel that he knew exactly what he had gotten lose thinking of. He shook off that ridiculous notion. Sebastian was no mind reader.

"I convinced him to show us to the best tutor he knows." The way Sebastian said 'convinced' made it evident to Harry that he had done a bit more than that. He inwardly shrugged. Whatever worked was fine with him. He didn't really care either way.

"We still have no galleons." Sebastian frowned. "Yes, that is a problem isn't it?"

Harry sighed. "I'll go convert our pounds to galleons at the bank. You go with him, I'll catch up later." Sebastian nodded.

Harry eyed the multiple alleys leading from this one. He knew it was rather maze like, and as good as his memory was, it wasn't even close to eidetic. The best way to get back to the main alley and find a bank, he decided, would be by rooftop.

He climbed the side of the nearest building as fast as he could, too fast for anyone to really see him. He started jumping from rooftop to rooftop, heading for the large gap he could see in the distance. That, he guessed, was the main alley. He dropped down into an alley that lead directly into it and started walking at a much more reasonable speed. He reached the main alley and kept walking, keeping an eye out for a bank.

Eventually he found one and stepped inside. The teller spoke broken English, to his relief, and he had no trouble converting half of their pounds to galleons, sickles and knuts other than a raised eyebrow from the teller. Harry assumed not many wizards had muggle money they wanted to convert. He personally thought that was rather stupid. A good businessman wouldn't limit himself to one world; he would use both to his advantage.

He exited the bank and took back to the rooftops, heading back to the spot where he and Sebastian split up. Once he found it, he carefully followed the scent of the man's soul through yet more streets. After a few minutes of doing so he stopped in front of a building as grimy as the rest. Sebastian was waiting outside for him. He smiled when he caught sight of Harry, and stepped forward. The man was beside him, looking slightly nervous. Harry assumed Sebastian had threatened him again.

Now that they were all here, the man stepped toward the door and knocked. For a few moments nothing happened, then the door swung silently open. Standing in the doorway was a man, dressed finely. He had reddish-brown hair, hazel eyes, and a trimmed goatee. When he spoke, it was with British accented French.

"Leon, qui sont ces gens?"

The man answered quickly back, barely bothering to breathe in between words. Harry got the sense that he was rather nervous.

"Ces deux hommes veulent apprendre la magie noire, monsieur. L'œil rouge était plutôt insistante."

The man nodded, and stepped back. Harry took that to mean they were to come in. He and Sebastian walked into the house. The man, who Harry now assumed was called Leon, did not enter. Instead he bowed quickly to the Brit and hurried away.

Contrary to the grimy appearance of it outside, the inside of the house was actually quite nice. It was clean, with elegant and understated furniture. They were lead into a sitting room, where the man sat on the couch. He crossed his legs and spoke. "I'm assuming, then, that one of you wants me to teach you?" His gaze switched back and forth between Harry and Sebastian. Sebastian inclined his head in Harry's direction, and his eyes focused on him.

"You, then." His eyes sharpened in a way that might have made a lesser man uncomfortable.

"My fee is not cheap, and the training is not easy." Harry nodded, accepting that. He had not expected the training to be easy. "How much?"

The man eyed him for a moment, and Harry got the distinct sense that the fee was not a set price, but rather varied from person to person. "We'll get to that once we're done."

Harry blinked. The man was just going to teach him, without him even paying him first? Inwardly he frowned, but outwardly he remained expressionless. This was rather strange.

"What should I call you?"

The man seemed slightly amused by the question. "You can call me whatever you like. I don't need to know your name, and you don't need to know mine. I'm assuming that you know Occlumency?"

Harry shrugged. A demon's mind was quite different from a human's. If someone were to enter his mind, they would go insane very quickly. He had found that out when a man had tried to use legilimancy on him. He had felt the intrusion in his mind immediately, and without even trying to kick him out of his mind the man had become a gibbering mess.

The man raised an eyebrow at the non-answer but didn't push. "The lessons will be daily. Come back tomorrow at sunrise. If you aren't here, I'll assume you don't want lessons anymore. If you are late, I'll assume you don't want lessons anymore. If you comply with this, the lessons will last until I deem you ready, and not when you deem yourself ready. Now go."

Harry blinked at the abrupt dismissal, but left. Sebastian followed him out of the house. "That was different than I expected" Harry commented.

"I didn't expect anything."

Ah, yes. Sebastian was still fairly clueless about the magical world. Harry would have to fix that.

The lessons with Redbeard, as Harry had dubbed the man in his mind, were actually quite strenuous. Dark curses were much harder to cast and control than light spells. It took a lot of willpower for him to do the spells, and he found that what Bellatrix had said in the Department of Mysteries applied to all dark curses. He had to mean it, to will it into fruition. It did not take long for him to realize that dark simply meant destructive. The magic itself was not evil, it simply had more power behind it. He snorted. The ministry and fear seemed to go hand in hand.

He learned, though, and a few years went by. He was surprised by just how much there was to learn, and how much Redbeard had to teach him. He had had, at the beginning of their lessons, to go get a new wand. The more he used his old one, the more he realized it was not in tune with him anymore. It did not take a genius to figure out why. Holly wood was known for its purity, and pure he was not. The same could be said for the phoenix tail feathers at the core, if it weren't for the fact that Voldemort's wand had still worked for him even after he had descended into darkness. That could, of course, be attributed to the yew, as it was known for being the exact opposite of holly in terms of meaning and symbolism.

He had had to go get a custom wand made. It was made of mahogany, with a piece of his own hair and blood used as the core. The wand was more in tune with him than his holly wand had ever been. He did not need to use it, as Redbeard had made a point of teaching him wandless and silent magic, but it was still useful as a focus for his magic. It magnified the strength of his spells greatly.

He taught Sebastian what he knew of the magical world, which, really, wasn't as much as it could've been. They explored together, and amassed a rather large collection of books. Harry was forced to go buy a trunk, and while he was there he had found a one enchanted to have an apartment inside. He had bought it for the sole purpose of no longer having to rent rooms wherever they went. Muggle repelling charms were cast, and he himself applied a bloodlock on it. To get it to open, he or Sebastian would have to press their thumbs into the mouth of the decorative snake head on the lock. It would take their blood, and if it was them the trunk would open. If it was someone else, the snake would inject a strong paralytic into the persons system. Harry was rather proud of himself for creating it.

The trunk had one bedroom, a kitchen combined with the dining room, a bathroom, and a study. The study held their collection of books, all of them arranged by subject on the shelves. The rest of the rooms were decorated with random interesting things they found in the shops.

Sebastian and he grew to be almost inseparable. They could both easily say that the only person they truly trusted and loved in the world was the other.

Harry had used an ancient blood ritual to bind their minds together. They could both communicate telepathically, no matter the distance, and they always felt a pull in the direction that the other was in. They were determined to never be separated against their will.

Sebastian also taught Harry how to use traditional weapons. Sebastian preferred to use kitchen knives, which irked Harry to no end. Why would he want to use such small things as that? Harry found he much preferred the sword to any other weapon. He kept one on his back at all times, enchanted so that it was invisible while in its sheath. His wand was kept in a holster on his wrist, also invisible unless he held it. He did not bother to get a backup wand, as unlike other wizards, even with no wand or even no weapon, he could easily hold his own.

Today, when Harry showed up at sunrise, he was surprised to see that Redbeard was not waiting for him as he usually was. He entered the house and stopped. The entire house was empty. The furniture was no long there, and there was certainly no Redbeard. Attached to the wall was a small piece of rolled up parchment. He picked it up and unrolled it.

_Goodbye, Greeneyes. Lessons are over. _

Harry rolled the parchment back up and with barely a flick of his fingers set it on fire. He had a feeling this was the last he would see of Redbeard.

He walked out of the house and back to the one room they rented in an inn. He ignored the room itself and instead walked to the trunk, pressing his thumb to the snakehead. The trunk opened, and he walked down the steps. He knew Sebastian would be in the study, reading as he always did in the morning. He seemed to have a new book every day. He looked up when Harry entered.

"The lessons are over, then?" Harry nodded. "I would like to leave as soon as possible. We've stayed here far longer than I ever thought we would." Sebastian closed his book with a snap, and put it on the shelf.

They left the trunk and Harry shrunk it so that it would fit in his coat pocket. They left the inn, not bothering to get back the down payment they had put in that week for another weekly stay.

"Where to?" Harry asked.

"You said you wanted to choose where we went next time" Sebastian answered. "Something about me having bad ideas?" He smirked at Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. Hmm…I've always wanted to see Germany." Sebastian smiled. "Germany it is."

* * *

Foreshadowing. Don Don Don. It's a few years after the year 1900. They are going to Germany. Guess who?


	7. Chapter 7

I am so sorry that this took so long. I procrastinate so well sometimes I even surprise myself. Every once in a while the thought 'maybe I should work on Vicis now..' then 'nah I'll do that later.' Eventually I looked back and did a double take once I realized just how long it had been.

Even worse, it has been revealed by the all powerful guidance counselor that I can't get rid of AP Language like I wanted to without completely screwing with my schedule. So now, I have more AP classes than I know what to do with and school starts in a 5 days.

As a result, I have no idea how long it will be in between chapters from this point on. School, obviously, comes first. I estimate I will have at least 150 pages of reading to do a week, excluding projects, papers, and general homework/studying. Updates might be months, they might be weeks, I have no idea. I have no intention of abandoning this fic, though. It will be finished! I swear on my magic ;)

I thought as a consolation gift I would make this chapter a bit longer. This is my longest chapter yet (almost 4,000 words). As always, thank you for reading!

Btw, so many of you said Hitler..Guys, Hitler is WWII. Get your world wars together. Dear god I got scared when I read those...

* * *

Over the next few weeks they traveled to Germany. They debated on what route to take. There were two main routes that ran through different cities. Neither of them could really decide which one they wanted to take.

They could either go from Paris to Stuttgart or from Paris to Dusseldorf. From either of those were even more cities branching out along the way to Berlin.

Harry eventually decided that he wanted to take the Stuttgart route. It was longer, but he had decided he wanted to see Stuttgart more than Dusseldorf.

Germany was obviously much more well off than France had been. Still, though, it seemed that half the people were just as depressed. Some seemed happy and fine, and yet others looked the exact opposite. It left an uneasy feeling in Harry's mind, and he racked his brain to think of any world events that might cause it.

It didn't take long. He almost hit himself. World War I. The first war that had involved nearly every major world power. It had begun in 1914, hadn't it? And here he was, on September 24th, 1913, in Germany. Next year Germany would invade Belgium. He didn't really see why this would affect them, really. From what he remembered, Germany had only done the invading; at this point they hadn't been invaded. They wouldn't be invaded until World War II.

"Sebastian, remind me to actually think of world events I remember from history class before we go somewhere. I would rather not end up in Germany in 1945. That would be much worse than this."

"Why?"

"Next year, Germany will invade Belgium, and World War I will start. The first war that involves nearly every major world power. We've come nearly right on top of it."

Sebastian laughed, then. "I think we both have problems with choosing where to go, darling."

Harry sighed, put upon. "Yes, trouble seems to follow me like a bee to flowers. Although, without it, I think my life would get quite boring. I'm too used to it now to relish its leaving."

Germany was a beautiful country; Harry had to give it that. Green rolling hills as far as the eye could see, some fields were filled with crops, others with flowers. The buildings were built with a very distinctive architecture that was not even close to being similar to British architecture. The buildings had brightly colored tiled roofs, so bright that when you weren't even in the towns you could see the roofs from miles away atop a hill.

It was then that Harry realized something. There was nothing happening, he was not learning anything, he was not fighting, and he hated it. This was excruciatingly boring. He had always thought that he would like to simply travel and see the world, but now he realized that he had to do something besides just that.

When he told Sebastian this, Sebastian just laughed. "That does not surprise me. Come, let me show you what demons do to amuse themselves when they are especially bored."

He led Harry through the town, until they reached the market. It was open air, with vendors selling wares at stalls and yelling out to try to catch a customer.

Sebastian walked right up to a woman selling handmade jewelry. He talked to her for a moment, then smiled and gestured avidly with one hand, in the process brushing her hand with his own. The woman smiled back and pointed to her left. Sebastian nodded.

He slipped off into the crowd, reappearing in front of another stall that sold vegetables. He seemed to argue with the man selling them for a moment before slamming his hand down on the stall, seemingly in anger. The man snapped back and they continued to argue until Sebastian threw his hands up in apparent exasperation, before walking back over to Harry.

He smirked at him. "Wait for it." A moment later a shriek was heard. Harry looked around Sebastian, to see the woman he had been talking to looking around her.

"Mein Ring! Jemand hat meinen Ring gestohlen. Wer hat ihn?!"Harry looked questioningly at Sebastian, who whispered in his ear after a second "My ring. Someone stole my ring. Who has it?" Harry nodded, and glanced back at the woman.

The town guard stationed at the market was there now, and, questioning her for a moment, announced ""Wir werden danach suchen. Wenn Sie den Ring besitzen und ihn jetzt zurückgeben, werden wir Sie gehen lassen."

Sebastian translated in his ear a moment later. "We will search for it, if you have it and hand it over now you will be let go."

They watched, Harry amused, as he was fairly certain he knew where this was going. After a few minutes his hunch was correct when they found the ring in the stall that the man who sold vegetables was at. The man argued heatedly with the guard "Ich nahm es nicht! Ich schwöre, ich war es nicht. Ich weiß nicht, wer es war, es war nicht ich!"

"I didn't take it! I swear it was not me. I don't know who took it, it wasn't me!" Sebastian murmured.

The guard seemed dubious. ""Wenn nicht Sie, wer dann?"

"If it wasn't you, then who?"

The man desperately looked around the market stall, until his eyes fell on Sebastian. "Er! Er hat vorhin mit der Hand auf den Stall geschlagen, er muss den Ring von ihnen gestohlen und ihn dann hier liegen gelassen haben!"

At that point Sebastian stopped translating, instead raising an eyebrow at the man. In perfectly native sounding German he replied "Warum sollte ich das tun? Sie zeigen mit ihrem Finger auf den Falschen."

The guard rolled his eyes and angrily marched the man off. Harry did not laugh, as some people were still glancing at them, but allowed a small amused smirk to appear on his lips. "That was momentarily entertaining, I'll give you that much."

Sebastian shrugged. "That is much simpler than what I usually do. It is much more entertaining to turn leaders of countries against one another than simply plant a ring and frame a man. That was merely the easiest example."

Harry smiled, eyes alight. "It would be rather amusing to turn world leaders against one another." He sighed. "It is a shame that I can't afford to risk changes. I want the world to be exactly as it was before when I was in the 90s. It will make manipulating things much easier."

Sebastian sighed. "Must you wait until then?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. Sebastian sighed again. "Fine. But what if we were to-"

"That vas rather amusing." A heavily German-accented voice interrupted Sebastian.

Harry looked over to see a fair haired man. His blonde hair was shaggy and reached the bottom of his neck. His eyes were an azure blue. He was of average height with a slender build. He looked to be in his very early twenties.

He smelled of power, charisma, and there was definite lust in there. The man was attracted to them.

Harry stared blank faced at him. It was obvious that he had seen what Sebastian had done. He supposed that if it amused them, if would amuse others, also.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it" he said, relaxing. The blonde man seemed surprised at this, as if his reaction was strange to him. It probably was. Most would be tense and wary at this point, yet Harry was completely relaxed.

The man's eyes flicked back and forth between Harry and Sebastian. "Vould you teach me?" Harry felt surprise flicker through him. The man wanted to be taught how to do that? Why? Sebastian had only done it to amuse them. While it was that, it did get old fast, and you could only do it so many times.

As if sensing Harry's thoughts, the man explained "I vould like to know how to pickpocket like that. That is all." Harry shrugged. While he knew how to pickpocket rather well, he had no desire to teach the man how. Although, it could relieve some of the boredom. Perhaps the man was interesting?

"What is your name?" The question came from Sebastian.

"Gellert Grindelwald." The answer was confident, as if he thought because Sebastian simply asked for his name that he was getting what he wanted.

Harry felt shock flitter through him. Grindelwald. Bloody fucking Grindelwald. Of course, out of all the people he could meet in this small German town, it would be him.

It would be interesting though. For him, to actually teach Grindelwald. He felt like laughing at the thought. "I am afraid that-"Sebastian got no further, as he was interrupted yet again.

"We'll teach you."

Sebastian stared hard at Harry, and then nodded. "We will teach you."

Grindelwald smiled.

"You are a wizard, right?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance. Grindelwald blinked in surprise before nodding. "You are, as vell?"

"Yes."

His eyes lit up. "You could teach me magic too, yes?" Harry smirked. "Might as well."

Grindelwald's eyes narrowed for a moment, wondering if there was some ulterior motive going on here. The move did not go unnoticed by either Harry or Sebastian.

"You say yes rather easily." The statement was obviously supposed to be a question. Harry treated it as a statement, and said nothing.

Grindelwald's eyes flashed for a moment, betraying his annoyance. "Fine, do not tell me. At least tell me your names?"

Harry gestured to himself. "I am Pravus, this is Sebastian." He did not blink at the rather strange name. He did, however, seem slightly suspicious of the fact that no last names were given. Harry, sensing this, said "There is no need for you to know our last names. We will teach you, then be gone. I doubt we will ever see each other again afterward."

Grindelwald seemed rather displeased at that, actually. His eyes had sharpened again and he was looking back and forth between them.

"Vhere vill you teach me?"

Harry considered the question for a moment. They could take him to the trunk, or rent a room somewhere. He had no desire to rent a room, and really didn't see a problem in taking him to the trunk. There was no way for him to get in without them, so it really didn't matter. If it was stolen, it would be rather easy to know it was him, and to get it back. Once a demon smelt a person's soul it was locked in their memory. They could track the soul scent like a bloodhound. It was completely foolproof, too. There was no way to mask the scent of your soul. You would have to have no soul at all to escape it.

Even then, there was certainly not room for teaching a wizard new spells in there. They would end up trashing the place. No matter how much of a genius Grindelwald was, when he was learning new spells he would definitely lack control at first.

The countryside, then. That would be the easiest place to do it at.

"When I am teaching you spells, the countryside. When Sebastian is teaching you how to pickpocket, among other things, here in the town."

Grindelwald nodded. "Vhere do I meet you, though?"

"Right here is fine. Meet us here tomorrow at seven in the morning. If you're late then we'll assume you don't want lessons. No exceptions." With that he turned and walked away, Sebastian quickly following.

"Why did you decide to teach him?" He was not angry, merely curious. He had been sure Harry would say no.

"Grindelwald will become a famous Dark Lord. He and his followers nearly took over Europe. He might have, too, if Dumbledore hadn't dueled him and won. I know I said I don't want to mess with what could be, but I honestly couldn't help myself. The irony of the Gold Boy Savior personally teaching a future Dark Lord was too much."

Sebastian laughed. "I have a feeling you won't be bored after this."

Harry smirked. "I am going to be one of the teachers to an infamous Dark Lord. Of course it won't be boring. I know exactly how he is going to use all the knowledge and skills we give him. It will be very entertaining."

*pagebreak

The next morning both Sebastian and Harry left for the same area as they had met Grindelwald. They had debated whether or not to go together, until they have both decided they had no desire to be apart, so they would teach him together. Of course, only Harry could teach him magic, but Sebastian, who had spent all the time Harry had been learning magic learning about the magical world and its subjects, still knew a lot. On a lot of subjects he knew even more than Harry.

When they arrived, they were both surprised to see that Grindelwald was already there. They had both expected him to be there almost exactly at seven.

Without exchanging any pleasantries, Sebastian started immediately. "Today, I am going to teach you the basics of pickpocketing."

"Only you?" he asked, bemused.

Harry spoke up. "While I know how to do these things, I have no idea how to teach them to others. Sebastian is more of a help with that." Seeing Grindelwald about to speak again, he guessed what he was going to say and added "Don't fear, I know how to teach magic. I was taught magic, I learned how to pickpocket out of practice. It is easier to teach something you were taught than to teach something you learned through practice."

Grindelwald closed his mouth, nodding instead.

"Now" Sebastian said "Do you actually know anything about doing this, or do you have no idea?"

Grindelwald shrugged. "I know vhat pickpocketing is. That is as far as my knowledge goes."

"Then observe" Sebastian told him. He held up a coin. "Put this somewhere on your person. I don't want to know where."

Grindelwald took the coin and Sebastian turned away. Harry felt a gentle push against his mind, and allowed Sebastian to enter. He ignored the surface thoughts and dove straight for the vision center, watching as Grindelwald hid the coin in his boot.

Sebastian removed himself from Harry's mind and turned around. "It is in your boot." Grindelwald blinked, shocked, then glared at him. "Trickery. There is no way you know that without looking."

Sebastian merely raised an eyebrow. "I am teaching you how to be a thief, did you expect to play fair? First lesson, use everything at your disposal no matter how underhanded. Honor has no place thievery."

Grindelwald looked sheepish at that. Harry started walking away. "Come on, then, I haven't got all day." He called back.

Grindelwald hurriedly ran after him, Sebastian following at a more sedate pace.

They walked until they were fairly far from town. Harry took out his wand and cast muggle repelling charms around the grassland they had stopped at. They couldn't have some muggle seeing them casting magic.

Harry turned back to Grindelwald. "What have you been taught so far?"

"Well-"He didn't get farther than that, as Harry held up his hand to stop him from speaking. "That was an idiotic question. If you were to lay out all that you knew we would be here for a very long time. No, attack me. Don't worry" Here he bared his teeth "I can take it."

Grindelwald gulped slightly, but complied.

He sent a wordless curse at Harry, a red light streaming from the tip. Harry didn't bother bringing up a shield, instead stepping to the side with an almost bored look on his face. Grindelwald tried again and again, but each curse Harry stepped away from, with little to no effort. Getting rather angry now, Grindelwald stepped it up, sending spells at a much higher frequency and almost viciously jabbing his wand at Harry.

Here Harry had to start moving more, dodging gracefully with neat movements. Each curse sailed harmlessly by. A particularly nasty curse headed straight for him. He sidestepped and reached out his own wand in the same movement, sending a yellow flash of light at Grindelwald. As Harry had not launched a single spell before this, Grindelwald was caught unprepared, and ended up sprawled out on the grass, in a full body bind.

With a wave of his wand, Harry set Grindelwald free. He jumped up, a slightly sullen look on his face. No doubt he had thought himself good before now.

"Magic isn't everything. As you saw, I did not need to create a shield. I easily dodged your spells. Why waste magic on a shield when you can just dodge it?"

Grindelwald looked thoughtful at that. "You vill teach me how to do this?"

"Yes. I will teach you how to duel properly, and that includes dodging. No self-respecting wizard should rely solely on his magic. That is a fast way of getting killed. Now, as fun as this was, we have things to do." With that, he grabbed Sebastian and apparated away.

Once they were back in their trunk, Harry had clear amusement in his eyes. "He is nothing like I thought he would be. He is rather naïve and idealistic. He expects others to play by unspoken rules. His magic, though, is impressive. He was able to shoot spells at me for a while, and in quick succession. He still wasn't even close to running out of magic when I bound him."

"He wasn't abysmal" was Sebastian's succinct reply.

"I think it just hit me that we might be the ones who made him into a Dark Lord. I mean look at him. He is nothing like a Dark Lord. What happens between now and 1945 that builds him up so high then breaks him down?"

They both thought for a moment, completely coming up blank.

"We'll just have to continue teaching him, I suppose. We will have to get rid of that childish streak he has." Here Harry stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Do you think we are why he became a Dark Lord? Or am I messing with the timeline?"

"Harry, I sincerely doubt that you could ever resist the amusement of teaching him. While our tutelage may not be what solely creates a Dark Lord, we are undoubtedly a part of it. This is what is called a paradox. Grindelwald became a Dark Lord because we taught him. We taught him because he was a Dark Lord. It is a never ending cycle that will give us a headache if we think about it too long."

Harry had to admit he was right. Technically, he had already done this. He knew he would never be able to resist it.

*page break

They both continued teaching Grindelwald for around a year. He was quite a quick learner, and became quite good at both dueling and stealing or fooling people. He had a perfect poker face, and could charm a chicken out of its eggs.

One particularly memorable lesson was when Grindelwald had wondered aloud what the Cruciatus felt like. Harry, in his infinitely charitable mood, had seen fit to show him. After enjoying a few screams, he had announced that Grindelwald was to start Cruciatus resistance lessons. After that, Harry threw the Cruciatus around until the man could grit his teeth and bear it with no writhing and no screams. To say Grindelwald learned to curb his tongue would be to put it mildly.

They perhaps would have continued teaching him, if the war had not started. While Germany was not a warzone, as the warring was far outside of its borders, Harry had no desire to stay. The town was becoming quite boring, as the novelty of teaching Grindelwald had worn off sometime after the first month. They had taught him many things, not even close to everything they knew, but many things. He could go learn on his own now.

And so they both left without warning, not even bothering to leave a note as Redbeard had done. Harry reflected that now he knew exactly why Redbeard had left.

They did not go to Berlin as previously planned, and instead simply trekked out of Germany to Denmark. The trip took much longer, as they had to traverse almost all of Germany to get to Denmark. They eventually got there, though. From the border they traveled all the way to Copenhagen.

Copenhagen was much larger than Stuttgart, though they spent much less time there. They saw the sights and, as always, Harry sought magics native to the land.

Harry found that he inherently hated cold countries. While, as a demon, he did not feel cold as keenly nor could he die from it, he still despised the feel of it. Sebastian seemed greatly amused by this, as he had long ago grown completely indifferent to temperature.

As a result, Harry was rather snappish and bad tempered. Sebastian lamented the loss of Grindelwald as his stress reliever. He'd much rather have his Harry in a good mood. He tolerated the bad mood until a native who had made one snide remark ended up with a caved in face. Harry had put a bit too much force behind his punch.

"Love, I think we should go south. This is getting rather out of hand." Harry seized on the idea immediately. Nothing had ever sounded better. "We should get a portkey to Greece. I've always wanted to go there." Sebastian looked surprised. "What? I know I didn't want to portkey travel, but I really hate this place. I am aware that if we physically travel to Greece it will take forever."

Sebastian acquiesced and Harry brought out a spare bowtie. Ignoring Sebastian's affronted look at his cavalier use of one of his bow ties, he created a portkey out of it. He held it out to Sebastian, who took it with a rather sullen look on his face. "It's just a bowtie, Seb" Harry soothed. Sebastian sourly reflected that his mood seemed to already be improving upon the prospect of leaving Denmark.

"Greece." The portkey glowed for a moment, before they were sucked into the vortex of nothingness. Sound rushed around them, and a strange pressure centered on their stomachs, making them feel as if they were circling endlessly. Without ceremony they were both dumped out somewhere in Greece, as Harry hadn't been very specific with where to put them.

Harry sat up and looked around, and saw they were in the middle of a fairly large valley. There were houses dotted on the mountains in the distance, but it seemed they were far from any kind of city or town. They randomly chose a direction and started walking.

Harry loved it. He reveled in the sun beating down on them, in the mountains everywhere. Rock with grass stretched on in front of them. The sky was so blue.

They walked for a few days before coming across the first city. It was situated on a mountain, with the buildings built up against it mimicking stairs. The first thought Harry had was white. Every building was white. Beyond that, a beautifully blue ocean stretched to the horizon. The site was so picturesque Harry had to stare for a few moments. He turned, then, to Sebastian. "We are staying in Greece." Sebastian only smiled and agreed.

* * *

You might ask me: Why did you have them teach Grindelwald thievery? My response: Why not?


	8. Chapter 8

I originally intended this to be a mere interlude, to show the results of Grindelwald and Harry+Sebs reactions. Then it kind of evolved from there, as inspiration struck. I did not put Harry and Seb in the middle of it, as I felt they had meddled enough. I think the news reports were a good call.

Next chapter I plan on going through Tom's(Voldemort's) childhood, then Harry's, until it will end around when Harry disappears. The chapter after that will be what we all (including me) have been eagerly awaiting. Beyond that it is a mystery.

For some reason this entire chapter I had "I Don't Love You" by My Chemical Romance stuck in my head. I don't know, maybe it fits somehow? It is kind of the inspiration for this chapter (in some parts). Its a beautiful song, I would recommend going to see it on YouTube.

There is also an easter egg of a real name of a person from real history stuck somewhere in here. If you can find the name, and tell me in a review/PM who it is and what they did, I will write a tiny little interlude for you with you (It is not Adolf Hitler). choosing the scenario and who is in it (must be this story related). I will even do a sex scene, as bad as it might be if you want me to...

* * *

April 20th, 1942

**DARK LORD RISES: ASSAULT ON GERMAN MINISTRY**

_ In a shocking turn of events no one saw coming, a new Dark Lord has risen to overtake Europe. The Dark Lord, who goes by the name of Gellert Grindelwald, assaulted the German ministry just yesterday. _

_ Ministry officials were going about day-to-day business, when, much to the shock of many, a wizard clad in black battle robes followed by a group comprised of both wizards and witches entered straight through the front door. _

_ The man clad in black, who has been identified as Grindelwald, spoke in front of the frozen lobby of officials: _

_ "The time has come for you all to bow to your rightful Lord. I am Lord Grindelwald, and you will join me now or face death! The choice is simple, live or die?" _

_ When no one stepped forward, he began his assault, and grueling duels began between the officials and the followers of Grindelwald. _

_ "The man was amazing!" One survivor, Wilhelm Wundt of the Department of Magical Artefacts, says in an awestruck voice. "No matter how many curses were flying at him, he always dodged them or just flicked them away with his wand. No one could touch him."_

_ Another witness, a rage filled woman of the Department of Registrations, Ada Hirsch, snarls "That…that man killed my best friend. He was powerful, yes, but that's no excuse. We should have been able to do more than just escape. It was all of us against such a small group of witches and wizards." At this, she grows silent, a pensive expression on her face. "When I finally gave up and ran out of there, I felt like a mouse getting away from a cat using a mouse hole. It was the worst feeling I've ever felt in my life." _

_ After a drawn out battle between the officials and the 'Black Guard' as the body of witches and wizards fighting with Grindelwald have been dubbed, Grindelwald won with the retreat of the remaining officials. Grindelwald now has complete control of Germany. _

_ There have been questions regarding his relationship between Muggle Germany. Due to the recent start of a rather large war in Muggle Europe caused directly by Muggle Germany, it seems likely. _

_ Is he working with the leader of Muggle Germany, Adolf Hitler? There has been no direct evidence to support this, but there has been no evidence to disprove this either. _

_ The British Ministry released a statement not long after the attack. The speaker, the current British Minister for Magic Maxwell Gaul, stated "While this is certainly a shock, do not let it dishearten you. This issue will be dealt with shortly. Rest assured, you are protected." _

_ Are we? The British seem to be declining all requests for help from German refugees, and so far there have been no overt actions by any Ministry to seek out defeat Grindelwald. Tell me, reader, do you feel safe?_

_ By Chrysanthe Melis_

_See more on the German takeover on pg. 9_

_See more on Grindelwald on pg. 15_

Harry set down the paper, an amused look on his face. Grindelwald had finally made his move. With the beginning of World War II led by Hitler had started a few years ago, he had expected the news any day since. He was surprised the man had waited so long, but then, he would want to prepare properly for an undertaking such as this.

He had no intention of interfering now. He would let history play out, in its amusing fashion. He had specifically trained Grindelwald for his future entertainment.

It would be a while, now, before Dumbledore actually confronted Grindelwald. Why the man waited so long, he didn't know. All he was doing was letting more innocents die every day. He didn't know if it was because the man had no balls, or if he was simply a pacifist.

He shrugged mentally and stood, walking to wear Sebastian was relaxing next to the pool Harry insisted they get. If he was staying in Greece for so many years, they were getting a damn pool had been his argument.

He held out the newspaper, a rather reliable one compared to the Daily Prophet called the Greek Gauge. Sebastian took it and read over it swiftly before a smile spread across his face. "He finally did it, hmm? I suppose this means you'll want to leave Greece now?"

"Not really, no." Smiling at the slightly perplexed look Sebastian gave him, he explained "I have no intention of meddling anymore. I know for a fact that Greek is so far off of Grindelwald's 'takeover' map right now as to be laughable. Besides, I like it here. No, we're staying here. I lit the fuse and now I'm watching the fireworks go off."

Sebastian seemed slightly put out by this, but reluctantly agreed. A wicked look entered his eyes as he looked sidelong at Harry. "Whatever shall we do to pass the time?"

Harry smirked. "You read my mind."

*pagebreak

July 14th, 1942

**THE HORROR CONTINUES: GRINDELWALD TAKES OVER BELGIUM AND NETHERLANDS**

_In a now not-so-surprising turn of events, Grindelwald proceeded yesterday to assault both the Belgian and Dutch Ministries. Both succumbed much more quickly than Germany, and few survived the assault. _

_ At the busiest hour for both Ministries, noon, Grindelwald swept into the lobby of the Belgian Ministry while the Black Guard was split between both ministries. A larger hit squad was found at the Dutch ministry. _

_ With no speech this time, he then set to killing every person in sight along with his followers. _

_ In a rather hysterical interview with the British Aurors, Ingrid Michel, a Dutch Ministry member, sobbed out "We…we had no idea what was happening at first. One second it was business as usual, and then he just strode in. At first no one recognized him. It was…denial. We didn't want him there, so we saw what we wanted. We all died anyway." Here, she broke down and was indisposed for several hours. _

_ Reader, barely fifteen people altogether made it out of both ministries. Fifteen. And still no ministry is directly challenging this madman? _

_ From these ministries Grindelwald has a direct line to both France and Great Britain unchallenged. Who could challenge him? _

_ Our own governments are who are supposed to protect us. It has been confirmed, now, that along the way from Germany to Belgium and the Netherlands Grindelwald pillaged every Wizarding city. Innocent men and women, killed for senseless violence from a takeover no one will challenge. _

_ Maxwell Gaul, the British Minister for Magic, released yet another public statement following the attack: "We find ourselves in dark times. We must band together and face adversity, for who will face it for us?" _

_ After this shocking statement, which basically tells everyone its every man for himself, only hours later Grindelwald proceeded to also take France. While details are not available of this attack yet, in the next edition I will be sure to include the details of the attack. _

_ By Chrysanthe Melis _

_See more on the Dutch takeover on pg. 9_

_See more on the Belgian takeover on pg. 10_

August 30th, 1945

**DUMBLEDORE AND GRINDELWALD DUEL: DUMBLEDORE WINS **

_In another shocking turn of events, Albus Dumbledore and Grindelwald proceeded to battle just yesterday. Dumbledore, after great difficult in a rather lengthy duel, successfully defeated Grindelwald. _

_ After the fight, Dumbledore refused interviews, instead withdrawing alone to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_ While Dumbledore is being praised for his heroics in saving the Wizarding world, this reporter has several questions. Why did the man wait so long to confront Grindelwald, when lives were being lost every day? How did this duel happen with no viewers of such a momentous event? Grindelwald is said to have members of his Black Guard with him all day, for the purposes of guarding him. It is doubtful Dumbledore killed them, as he didn't even kill the national terrorist. In an effort to answer these questions and assuage my doubts, I plan to travel to Britain. I already have several promising contacts within the country. _

_By Chrysanthe Melis _

_See more on the battle on pg. 10_

_See more on Grindelwald on pg. 13_

_See more on Dumbledore on pg. 15_

Harry put down the paper, a thoughtful look on his face. While he knew Chrysanthe wouldn't be successful in her efforts to find the skeletons in Dumbledore's closet, she raised some excellent questions. It would be prudent to go investigate himself. After all, blackmail on the old coot would be just what he would need to get his point across later on.

It would be best to talk to Sebastian about it, though. The man could find information like a niffler could find gold.

He walked into their living room, where Sebastian was reading a book. He handed him the paper, and he read through it. Once he was done he looked up. "I presume you want to go investigate in Britain, now?" Harry nodded.

Sebastian put the book on the table and stood. "A portkey again, or would you like to travel by foot?"

Harry didn't bother to ask why they were going right now. Really, they had been lazing around for years now. It was simple to just leave with the trunk they had never unpacked.

"I would rather go by foot. I don't mind walking this time. Before it was just too cold." Sebastian smirked. "You realize it will be rather cold again by the time we get to Britain?"

At this, Harry sighed. "I had tried not to think about it, but thank you for the reminder."

"I do try."

"Yes, I know you do."

Harry look around, and, not seeing any junk that he wouldn't mind being rid of, said "_Accio_ rock." A rock zoomed into his hand after a moment. He took out his wand and tapped it to the stone, setting the coordinates to the middle of the London countryside.

That finished, he held out the rock to Sebastian, who place his hand over it. "Go." And with that, they were sucked into a vortex.

It felt as if a black hole centered on their stomachs had sucked them in, spinning and spinning. Random noises could be heard throughout the journey, and without warning they were dumped out onto grass. Both landed rather gracefully on their feet, despite the unceremonious landing.

Harry stood, finding himself in exactly the place he had focused on. He'd had no real idea where to land them without getting them phased into a building or tree, and so had focused on the Phantomhive estate, which looked uninhabited, judging by the state of disrepair.

He glanced sideways at Sebastian, who was looking at the house with an unreadable expression. "I always wondered" Harry said "How you viewed your time with him." He was met with silence, and the silence stretched on for so long that he thought Sebastian wasn't going to answer.

"I grew…strangely fond of Ciel." He said this slowly, as if puzzling it out within his own mind. "I did not hesitate to take his soul, in fact I was eager, and rightly so. That does not mean that I did not at least somewhat enjoy my time with him. It was interesting, at least."

With that, he turns away, and said "Shall we?"

Harry nodded, and they were off.

Once they reached London, Harry instantly sought out the broken threads of his old information web. While it had been much too long for anyone who had known them then to still be alive, save Undertaker, wherever the hell that guy was, that did not mean their successors were not in the same place, selling the same type of information.

With this he traveled all of London, subtly enquiring about Dumbledore's past. His search yielded few results, until one of the contacts mentioned Bathilda Bagshot. She was a woman who had apparently known Dumbledore in his childhood, and had lived across the street. He only got a name, but threw away his search for Dumbledore's past and instead searched for wherever Jorkins lived.

Eventually he got the information, and without further wait he and Sebastian traveled to her house.

They walked up to the front door and knocked.

A woman answered, with permed brown hair, a square shaped face, and hazel eyes. "Yes?" her voice seemed slightly croaky, as if it were just beginning to age.

"Are you Bathilda Bagshot?" The woman, who looked surprised, nodded. "Would you mind letting us in? We have a few questions for you."

"I-yes. I suppose so." She stepped back and opened the door wide. As they stepped in, her dull brown eyes sharpened slightly and flicked back and forth between them. "Who are you?"

Sebastian bowed slightly at the waist. "Sebastian Michaelis." Harry followed suit. "Pravus Michaelis." They had agreed a while ago that Harry adopting Sebastian's last name was the simplest thing to do.

"Oh. You two are brothers, then?" Harry supposed some might mistake them for brothers, due to their similar skin tone, feathery black hair, and unnatural beauty, but they really weren't. The question was whether or not to let them believe that, at least for now. It would help them blend in now, although he would definitely rub it into Dumbledore's face later on. The Wizards were as prejudiced against homosexuality as the Muggles, especially the purebloods.

So decided, Harry simply nodded. The unsure light in her eyes died. "Come, come." She led them to a comfortable looking living room, and sat down on the chair across from the couch. They both took the couch.

"Would you like some tea?" They both politely declined, and so she asked "What are your questions, then, if I may ask?"

"You are familiar with Albus Dumbledore's childhood, yes?" Sebastian asked.

With that question, there was a return of the unsettled look in her eye. "I was a neighbor then, yes. Why?" Her eyes were sharp again.

This woman was sharper than Harry had thought she would be when he had seen her. Her looks gave the impression that she would be of average or below average intelligence, but if anything, she was of greater than average intelligence.

"In a word, Madame, curiosity" Sebastian said. "The childhood of such a great wizard must have been spectacular."

The over aware look in her eyes didn't fade. "I can assure you, his childhood was not what many would think." She stared at her hands. "If you can tell me you have intention of telling anyone, much less the press, this, I will tell you of his childhood."

Sebastian solemnly said "I swear on my magic we will not tell a soul." Inwardly Harry smirked. While the agreement would seem airtight to her, Sebastian had no magic to lose. Beyond that, using 'soul' meant they could tell anything without a soul, including a painting, and it would then be able to tell anyone. Of course, they could tell other demons also, but he saw no point in that.

She nodded, appearing relieved at this. And so she told her story. Harry listened in rapt attention, his face carefully blank but inwardly he was gleeful. This was gold. He would lord this over Dumbledore for all it was worth.

Once she told her story, she directed them to Elphias Doge for the beginning. They left and seeked out the man, who after some convincing much like Bathilda, told them what he knew of the story.

The results were staggering. Albus Dumbledore's childhood was nothing short of blasphemous, considering what he was known as now. The man who was known as the second coming of Merlin himself, a Muggle hater? Someone who had conspired with the Dark Lord Grindelwald? It was pure beauty.

After some piecing and conjecture, this is how the story went:

Albus's childhood started out well enough. His mother, Kendra, and father, Percival, were good people.

Albus had a brother and a sister, too. His younger brother was named Aberforth, while the youngest was Ariana, his sister.

She was a bright girl. Her smile would light up the room like nothing else, and she was kind and sweet. Once she was over visiting me, and there was a caterpillar making its way across the floor. Well, I was going to crush it, but no, she picked it up, as gently as could be, and set it outside. All things, she said, deserved to live.

Then, she had a bout of accidental magic in the backyard once. Some muggle boys saw it. I don't know if they were terrified. I don't know if they were irrationally angry or jealous. They went and attacked her one day. No one really knows what happened. It doesn't really matter. All that came out of it was a girl who wouldn't talk and was so afraid of her magic that she would scream silently when she saw it.

Their father, Percival, went into a rage. He went after those boys, and they all ended up dead. Percival was tried and found guilty by the Wizengamot for use of the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse, and sent to Azkaban on a life sentence.

Around this time Albus went to Hogwarts. He was sorted into Gryffindor, and was known as a Transfiguration prodigy and one of the brightest students in a long time. He was also known for his hatred of muggles.

He graduated, and planned to explore the world. These hopes were dashed with the death of Kendra Dumbledore by accidental magic on Ariana's part. It became apparent that Dumbledore would have to take care of her, as Aberforth was going to Hogwarts.

It was when he was taking care of Ariana that he met Grindelwald. They plotted together, planning how to take over magical Britain and Europe. They both shared similar views, and grew so close that it was obvious they had been lovers. Through this, he had been steadily neglecting Ariana.

Aberforth, having had enough, confronted Dumbledore about this. Grindelwald used the cruciatus curse on Aberforth, and Dumbledore intervened. A duel started, with helpless Ariana sitting in the middle.

Eventually, the duel ended, and in the aftermath they found that Ariana was dead. Grindelwald fled, and Aberforth blamed Albus.

After this, the story got boring, with Dumbledore simply becoming the Hogwarts Transfiguration professor. The rest was common knowledge to most witches and wizards.

Harry smiled wickedly. Oh yes, this was perfect. When he had told Sebastian the story in its entirety, he had been entirely amused. It was hard not to be. The guilt Dumbledore must feel…to think he might have killed his own sister. It was too rich.

Having satisfied their curiosity, they were faced with a decision. To stay or leave? They both decided to stay. It would only be about thirty five years until he was born. It would be best to observe and make connections. Their time was coming, though. Harry could hardly wait.

* * *

I put Dumbledore's story in there, as it always kind of struck a chord as being a "Damn thats sad" kind of story. It also makes me want to strangle the man. He knows how bad muggles can be to wizards, but never checks up on Harry, even after McGonagall being like "They are the worst sort of muggles...dont do this, Albus." Even once the kid shows up to school tiny and malnourished looking with such a thirst for acceptance that he goes for the first friend he can find. It always made me sad how he was rather like a dog with a bone with Ron.

The story also serves a purpose in the plot later on.


	9. Chapter 9

Well, this is the longest time between chapters yet. That would be the combination of me being busy and suffering (again) from writer's block. Here it is, though. As a change of plans, I'm splitting the Tom Riddle arc into two chapters. This chapter is his childhood, pretty much stuff you'd expect from reading the books, and the next chapter will be his Hogwarts days.

Btw, all I know of Hogwarts staff from Riddle's time is Armando Dippet was Headmaster, Dumbledore taught Transfiguration, and Slughorn was potions master. The rest of the staff positions are ocs made by me. If you guys know of some staff member for sure other than them, refrain from telling me or bashing me for not including them. I'm sticking to my ocs for staff.

***It was brought to my attention that Grindlewald was defeated during Riddle's time at Hogwarts. This is true, and I completely forgot. So I'm gonna go AU on this and say he was defeated before Riddle ever came. As such, Dumbledore the Transfig teacher will have a bit more power and recognition than he had before when Riddle was in school. Should be fun to torment Riddle ^-^***

This chapter was brought to you by Centuries by Fall Out Boy, my new favorite song. :3

* * *

The night was a night like any other. There was no storm, no foreboding flashing lightning, and no wind whispering of horrors to come. The night was quiet and calm, with a clear sky full of stars and a crescent moon.

If one were to be at Wool's Orphanage, the night was strange.

For a woman, as plain as any woman could be, was giving birth that night. It became evident very soon to the Matron of the orphanage that the woman would most likely not survive the birth.

When the baby came out, they were all slightly unsettled by the boy. His brown eyes were eerily knowing, his face solemn, and there were no tears, no screaming.

The woman took him in trembling, weak arms, and stared at his face adoringly. "I hope" she whispered "he turns out to look like his father." She looked at the Matron, then, and said "His name is Tom, after his father. Tom Marvolo Riddle." And moments later, she died.

The Matron took the newly dubbed Tom from his mother's arms, looking at him with sorrow in her gaze. "No child deserves to lie in their mother's dead arms." She sighed, then, and turned to go find a crib. She failed to notice the two pairs of eyes gleaming out from a dark corner, one red and one green.

*page break

A five year old Tom Riddle cowered, fear mixed with righteous anger in his eyes. Jeers and laughter came from a group of boys standing in front of him. "Can't fight back, can ya freak?" one sneered, and then proceeded to shove him onto the ground. He curled up, obviously fighting back tears as the other boy started kicking.

Harry watched all this with a sort of dispassionate curiosity. It was interesting, he thought, how similar he and Tom Riddle truly were. If only the man hadn't gone insane in his later years.

Eventually the children grew weary of their beating and walked away, but not before kicking some dirt into Riddle's face. The boy lay on the ground in the fetal position, in obvious pain.

Harry sighed inwardly. Why couldn't something exciting happen? This was rather dull.

* * *

"Dinner!"

The call flew through the orphanage, causing every child to run in a mad dash for the dining room. It was common knowledge that the best food was given out first. Best, of course, was a relative term, as the food was far from good.

A six year old Tom Riddle followed the other children at a more sedate pace. He knew that even if he were to hurry, he would not get the best food, as the caretakers had decided long ago that he was 'unnatural'. Whether they said it out loud or not, he could tell. It made resentment burn in his mind.

What did they know of him? Did they ever try to help him? No! That was why he had to punish the other boys. No one would help him. He had to rely on only himself. For that, he needed to be more powerful than the other boys. That had been easily done. The strange powers he had been born with were hard to control at first, but he had kept at it.

If he wanted them hurt, they hurt. If he wanted them scared, they were scared all right.

It was satisfying how easily cowed the boys were. Of course, he didn't blame them. He knew he could be rather terrifying when he wanted to be. Sadly, the caretakers were not as oblivious to this as he might wish them to be, no matter how charming he tried to be.

Charming. Yes. He needed to be better at manipulating people. People were like puppets- you pull one string, and they react exactly as you want them to. While slightly more unpredictable than puppets, the idea was the same.

He reached the dining room, and was handed a bowl of porridge with a stale piece of bread. He glared balefully at the pitiful meal but starting eating with jerky, almost mechanical movements. He was not paying attention to his surroundings at all, and in hindsight that had been his first mistake.

A meaty fist belonging to the most overweight kid at the orphanage pulled the porridge out of his grasp, sneering. "It's mine now, Riddlesticks!" He laughed, as if he thought the nickname was particularly clever.

Tom fumed, inwardly furious. How dare the heathen take his food! It was not the first time, but it would be the last. Oh yes, after this no one would dare cross him.

With one last glare, he turned and walked away, already planning his next move.

*page break

"Director! I'm glad you decided to see us." Here Harry smiled, a malicious edge to it that was quite evident.

Sebastian stood by him, studying the goblin in fascination. He had never seen one before.

The Director of Gringotts stared at them both, fear evident in his eyes. "Ah, yes, how could I refuse?" His eyes darted nervously between them.

"What else other than a vault?" Harry smirked.

The Director looked unsure. "A…vault?"

Sebastian looked amused. "What did you think we came here for? To coerce you into letting us into one of your more wealth client's vaults?"

The Director gulped and looked away.

Sebastian laughed. "That is what you thought, isn't it? No, just get us a vault. We would like the highest security you have."

The Director cleared his throat, slightly terrified of their reaction to his question. "What, exactly, do you need a vault for?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, and then said sarcastically "To ride unicorns in. No, to store something, you dolt. But if you really want to know…" Here, he raised his hand, a necklace gleaming in his grasp. The Director stared at it, his eyes wide. "How…where did you get that?"

Harry simply shrugged. "I'm not that charitable."

*page break

"Ahhhhh!"

Riddle smirked at the horrified scream. It had taken them less time for them to find the rabbit than he'd thought it would take. It didn't matter, of course, as he had made sure he was far from it from the moment he'd been done.

He idly wondered what exactly they would do. Finding a dead rabbit hanging by a noose from the ceiling had to be traumatizing. He knew that they would suspect him. He was the weirdo, the freak, after all.

No matter. All he needed was to be feared.

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Riddle. I am a Professor from a school-"

Riddle interrupted "A professor? You're a doctor, aren't you. They told you to come in here and-"

"If you would let me finish, Mr. Riddle." The man sounded aggrieved.

Riddle sulked silently, glaring at the man. If they were forcing him to go to some asylum, they would have another think coming. There was no way he was letting this man take him.

"As I was saying, my name is Albus Dumbledore. I come from a school for special children, a school you have been chosen for."

Riddle glared. "What do you mean by special?" he asked, his eyes guarded.

"Have you ever done something strange? Something no one else can do?"

Riddle carefully concealed his surprise. "Like what?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Like magic, my dear boy."

Inwardly Riddle growled. 'His dear boy?' He was no one's dear boy. On another note, a level of delight he had never known before was spreading through him. Magic! He was different than those…those…idiots. He needed a term more derogatorily appropriate.

"Magic? You mean what I can do, it's magic?" He injected some childish excitement into his voice. It wouldn't do to come off even more as strange. If he was going to this school, he would have to start over. Dumbledore might have an inkling of something off about him now, he needed to erase it.

"Yes. Hogwarts is a school for magic. Now, Tom. I believe there is something that wants out?"

At that point, the wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle barely refrained from jumping back in shock. He stared at the wardrobe expressionlessly, yet inwardly he was horror struck. In that wardrobe was everything he owned! This man had no right, no right to come barging in only to burn his meager possessions!

He opened his mouth, about to unleash a furious diatribe, when Dumbledore spoke. "Something wants out, Tom. Why don't you go and take a look?" He froze, incredulous. The man was burning is things, and now he wanted him to burn himself going to get them?

No, no that was preposterous. The flames were magical, after all, so perhaps they didn't actually damage him or his things? Seizing onto this hope, he took a few steps toward the wardrobe, not taking his eyes off Dumbledore. The man was obviously a threat, and his years of being bullied had made him learn to never turn your back on a threat.

He cautiously reached out and, when he felt nothing from the flames, opened the wardrobe. His eyes flew to a rattling container, where he knew he kept the things he had taken from the other children. This man wanted him to give them back? They were _his_. He had taken them as retribution for the attacks of the other children. He deserved them.

"Open it, Tom." He glared at the box, but complied, taking it out and opening it. Inside were the things he had taken. Dumbledore stared down his nose at him, his eyes frosty. "At Hogwarts, we will not tolerate stealing, Tom. See that you return those items to their rightful owners." _I am their rightful owners_ Tom thought furiously. _These things are __**mine.**_ With that thought he felt his magic swirling through him, aching to unleash itself on the old man. _No. No, I can't attack him. That will make it so I can't go to Hogwarts, and beyond that, there will be repercussions from the law. Sad. This man deserves to be taken down a peg or two. _

With that thought, he smiled woodenly at Dumbledore. "Of course, sir."

Dumbledore nodded, seemingly appeased. "Good, now will you need help getting your school things?" Oh, he probably would, but no way was he staying with Dumbledore longer than necessary. "I'm sure I can figure it out on my own, sir."

"Of course, my dear boy. I'm sure you'll do just fine on your own."

*page break

Harry sighed, staring at the ceiling. Who knew watching Tom Riddle's childhood could be so bloody boring? He had expected most of it, and he guess that was part of what made it so boring. There was nothing new. The most interesting parts were probably at Hogwarts, and as good as he was at being unseen and unnoticed, even he wasn't so good that he could just walk through Hogwarts wards without being let in.

But maybe he could be invited. His eyes lit up as he thought of it. He had to tell Sebastian! It was perfect.

He stood up and walked over to Sebastian, who was reading yet another book.

"Seb! I know what we can do to watch Riddle at Hogwarts!"

Sebastian looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow. Harry seemed genuinely excited. That was new.

"And what would that be?"

Harry smirked. "How would you like to be a professor with me?"

"I'm assuming, then, that if there are no openings we are going to make openings?"

Harry smiled cheerily. "You know me so well, Sebby!"

Sebastian glared. "I'll let you call me Seb, but please no Sebby."

"Then you'll be a professor with me?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Fine. But I'm leaving all of it up to you. I have a few things I need to go do."

Harry merely smiled again and walked away.

* * *

Harry leaned against a pole, inspecting the house of one Jeremiah Sherr. Sherr was the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. So far, the man hadn't made a single appearance, and he had been watching the house since sunrise for the past few hours.

He would have simply entered a long time ago, but the wards around the house were exceedingly well done. Getting in would be simple enough, getting in without being noticed would be next to impossible.

He might was well go the simple route. There was nothing stopping him from knocking.

He walked up to the house and knocked, then waited patiently to see if anyone would answer. He waited only a few moments before the sound of footsteps reached him. He tracked the footsteps all the way to the door, where the sound of locks being unlocked emanated. The door opened, and standing in front of him was a man he had expected to never see again.

Redbeard raised an eyebrow, leaning against the door frame. "Well now, isn't this a surprise." Harry blinked, surprised for the first time in a long time. "I was not actually expecting you."

"No, you were expecting the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher of Hogwarts. Why?" His tone was sharp, and Harry realized he was on the defensive. This was probably the first time in a while that he had been surprised.

Harry knew lying to him would be supremely foolish, so he instead replied truthfully "I was going to Imperious him to resign and recommend me to be the new teacher." His tone was matter of fact, with not a hint of guilt.

Redbeard snorted. "Of course you were. Fine, I won't ask. I'll resign and recommend you. What name do you want to go as?" Harry blinked. He hadn't expected so soon a capitulation or any capitulation at all.

"Pravus Michaelis." With no further comment, Redbeard stepped back and closed the door in his face. Harry stared at the door for a moment before turning around to go back to Sebastian. That had been interesting.

* * *

Harry combed his fingers through his hair, inspecting the changes to his face. He had made his jaw narrower, with a light smattering of reddish stubble. His hair was fire red, and slicked back, making it look rather like flames. His eyes were the same ethereally intense green, as the spells that changed eye color tended to affect the quality of eyesight over time. He stuck with the small, lithe build and average height.

Done with that, he slipped on black robes over tan trousers and a white button down. He hated robes and how they restricted movement, but knew it was necessary to stay in traditional wizard garb for at the very least his job interview.

A week after retelling the story of visiting Jeremiah Sherr's house to Sebastian, he had gotten an owl from Headmaster Dippet requesting a job interview from him. It was obvious that Redbeard had done as asked.

Sebastian watched his primping with an amused look on his face. "You'll do fine, love. You have the recommendation of the previous teacher. This is just a formality."

Harry sighed. "I'm not nervous, Seb, you know that. I'm just making sure there are no irregularities with the appearance charms."

Sebastian smirked. "I know."

Harry rolled his eyes and walked over to the fireplace, taking some green floo powder from a bowl. He threw it into the flames, and then walked in, calling out clearly "The Leaky Cauldron."

He withstood the sickening sensation of spinning through space, and then stepped gracefully out of the fireplace once he arrived.

Waiting at a table was the current Hogwarts Groundskeeper, Vincent Yaslow. He was a wisp of a man, for someone who commonly worked with rather large dangerous creatures. Harry approached him, and held out his hand. "Pravus Michaelis. And you are?" Yaslow shook his hand. "Vincent Yaslow, Groundskeeper. I'm here to take you to Headmaster Dippet." Harry dipped his head. "Lead the way."

Yaslow led Harry to one of the apparition points of Diagon alley, before holding out his hand. Harry took it, and with a crack and a turn they were gone. Within moments they were dumped at the Hogwarts front gate, Yaslow stumbling but managing to stay on his feet. Harry landed, catlike, on his feet with his knees bent to absorb the impact.

He stood gracefully, and inspected Hogwarts as if he were seeing it for the first time. The school looked much the same as it had when he attended, not that he was expecting much else. It was a castle, after all.

He turned to Yaslow, who was watching his reaction to the schoo. "Shall we be off, then?" The man nodded. "Of course, of course, come with me." He walked up to the gates, which swung open in welcome. They trekked up the path to the school silently, before Yaslow attempted to break the silence, which was no doubt awkward for his part. "You knew Jeremiah? The Headmaster told me he had recommended you."

Harry replied blandly "I knew him, yes." Yaslow looked put out by the brief answer but said nothing else, seeming to get the point that he wouldn't get much conversation out of Pravus.

They reached the entrance to Hogwarts, which also swung open upon them nearing it. They walked through the halls of Hogwarts to the entrance to the Headmaster's office, guarded by a stone gargoyle. "Daffodils." The gargoyle slid to the side, with the door opening.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the choice of password, but nodded goodbye to Yaslow before climbing the rotating staircase.

Upon reaching the top, he was greeted by a beaming Headmaster Armando Dippet. "Mr. Michaelis! How good of you to accept my interview offer! This is just a formality, you understand, Jeremiah's recommendation is good enough for me!"

This man, Harry mused, is an idiot. Just because the previous teacher recommended him meant nothing about his intentions, all it really proved was he was competent and able to teach. Inwardly he shrugged. From what he had heard of Armanado Dippet, he hadn't been expecting much else.

"I was only too delighted to receive your job offer, Headmaster. I've always wanted to teach at Hogwarts, but it never seemed to be the right time, you see."

Dippet beamed again. "That's wonderful, wonderful indeed. I'm sure you'll do well at the job." The rest of the so called 'job interview' was Dippet making small talk about inconsequential things. By the end of it, Harry was ready to bash the man's head into the wall. Repeatedly.

He was shaken out of his delightful reverie by Dippet exclaiming "You'll have to have your book list sent in before we send out the acceptance letters for the year, and send you're lesson plans to Deputy Headmaster Dumbledore and for review. I'm sure you'll do fine!" He was ushered out of the office.

That, he reflected, was a huge waste of time.

* * *

Note: Redbeard's name is not Jeremiah Sherr. It is an alias. I thought that was obvious, but I guess not so much


	10. Chapter 10

I meant to have this out last Sunday, but life got in the way. Meh.

I realized there wasn't much in the way of Harry/Seb relationship going on. It was more of a Harry&Seb thing. So I put in some relationship fun.

This chapter was brought to you by Warriors by Imagine Dragons. LoL.

Thank you guys for reading :) it means a lot to me that people actually read my work

* * *

Harry breezed through the entrance hall, brushing past a surprised looking Slughorn. The man blinked for a moment, then released the door he had only moments ago opened and fast-walked to Harry's side, although the walk was more in the fashion of a waddle.

"Wait, wait!" he cried, and Harry simple kept walking, not slowing, but not speeding up as he wanted to. The man huffed and puffed. "I'm meant to show you around the school, dear fellow! It-

"That is not necessary." He stopped walking suddenly, causing Slughorn to stumble slightly at the abrupt stop, and gave the man a thin smile, which certainly did not meet his eyes. Slughorn gulped, suddenly realizing that this imposing man was frightening, without really understanding why. It seemed to simply be his presence- it made something inside him want to run, as if he were the prey before the predator.

Shoving that ridiculous notion aside, he drew himself up, and thrust out his hand. "Horace Slughorn, I'm the Potions professor here. A pleasure to meet you!" Harry eyed the hand disdainfully before taking it and shaking it. "I am Pravus Michaelis, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. But I'm assuming you knew that, yes?"

Slughorn nodded quickly, causing his prodigious jowls to jiggle in a rather disgusting way. "Of course, of course! Are you sure you don't want a tour? Hogwarts is rather large, and the stairs have a habit of moving, you see…"

Harry nodded. "I am sure I'll manage." He gave another thin smile, then turned and strode off, ignoring the suddenly much sharper eyes studying his back. He was well aware that while Horace Slughorn came off as a fat idiot, in reality he was a fat genius. The man acted the idiot while cultivating a rather large following of the best and brightest at Hogwarts, leaving him with influential contacts in nearly every department of the Ministry and most wizarding companies.

As a result, the man was quite good at reading people, and for that he had not bothered trying to act pleasant. If it would not fool Slughorn for a moment, there was no reason in trying.

He reached his new quarters and entered, eying the emerald covered bed with some amusement. Lying there was Sebastian, arms over his head and legs stretched out, for all the world looking like a satisfied cat.

"I hadn't expected to see you here so soon."

Sebastian's eyes opened, fixing him with ruby red. He smirked and sat up, rolling his shoulders. "I thought I would come ahead of time and explore this place. It is rather…interesting. I might find it charming if it weren't that this is where you nearly died several times." His eyes grew frigid at that, and he glared at the stone wall as if it had personally offended him.

"The castle didn't try to kill me, Sebastian. It was the people in it."

Sebastian continued glaring at the wall. "Nevertheless, I do not like this place." Harry decided to give up, and instead a teasing glint entered his eyes. "If you don't like it, go ahead and punch it. Will that make you feel better?" His voice grew close to cooing at the end, as if here talking to a baby. Sebastian transferred his glare from the wall to Harry, looking personally affronted. "I am not a baby, Harry."

The teasing glint in Harry's eyes went from teasing to wicked in moments, and he purred out "Of course you aren't. If you were, I wouldn't be able to do this." He climbed onto the bed resting atop Sebastian, and lowered his face until his lips were a hairs breadth from Sebastian's.

Instantly, Sebastian's eyes grew slitted and glowed, and his lips met Harry's in a forceful kiss. After a moment Harry pulled back, his own emerald eyes slitted and glowing now too. "I have about an hour before I am required to attend the welcoming feast in the Great Hall. Whatever shall we do in the meantime?" A sinful smirk spread across Sebastian's lips.

(Imagination time peoples.)

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was confused. First, Jeremiah had apparently decided not to come back and teach, contrary to what he had told Albus.

Secondly, a man Dumbledore had never met before, yet Jeremiah said was one of his own students had taken Jeremiah's place.

Third, the students were almost done being sorted, and yet the man still had yet to show up. All teachers were required to attend the feast, unless they had other duties to fulfill such as leading the first years to the castle.

Where in the blazes was the man?

As if summoned by the very thought of him, the doors slammed open, and in strode the man known as Pravus Michaelis. Dumbledore blinked, realizing the man was rather more attractive than he had been lead to believe. His hair was as slicked back and as red as fire, leaving the impression that his very hair was made of flames. His eyes, as cold as ice, were a vivid green, which contrasted rather spectacularly with his hair. His skin was pale and unblemished, and his jaw was narrow, with a smattering of red stubble. He was of average height, with a lithe and skinny build that gave off an impression of speed rather than strength.

He wore no robes, only black trousers with a black button down shirt. Nowhere on his person could Dumbledore see a wand.

Every student in the hall burst into excited whispers the moment they saw the man. Dumbledore couldn't blame him. He was one of the more interesting people had had seen in a long time, and for all the man's noticeability, he had never seen him, or even heard of him, before. This called for more study.

* * *

Harry sighed inwardly when he stepped into the Great Hall. He should have known Sebastian would make him late, and here he was, now the focus of every single person in the room.

The felt like bashing a few heads into the wall when he heard the tittering from the girls. He hadn't realized that being the one attractive being in the whole place would instantly make him the target of dozens of teenage crushes.

As he walked up to the teacher's table, he realized something that almost made a grin stretch across his face. He could easily make Sebastian the target of most of the girls, with a little subtle prodding on his part…it would serve Sebastian right for making him late. Of course, he would have to carefully supervise, in case Sebastian lost it and tried to eat a few of the girls' souls.

That is, if he wasn't the one who tried first, he thought sourly as the whispering grew more pronounced and a few giggles were heard.

He sat at the only empty seat, in between Slughorn and Dumbledore. Oh, joy, more happy fun times.

Why had he thought teaching here was a good idea again?

Dumbledore smiled the same smile Harry remembered so well, although the twinkle in his eyes was not quite as bright. He barely stopped himself from snarling in disgust at the fact that the man's very soul was twinkling and cheerful along with him, although there was certainly a dark undertone that was rather interesting. He assumed that the dark part came from the whole 'I may have killed my sister' guilt Dumbledore felt. "Mr. Michaelis! I am Albus Dumbledore, the Transfiguration teacher." He held out his hand, looking at Harry expectantly. Harry eyed it for a moment before deciding he had no intention of shaking it, and instead ignored it and turned to his empty plate. He almost laughed aloud at the shocked and indignant air that was radiating off of Dumbledore now.

Slughorn leaned over, not quite hiding the amusement in his eyes, and said "Simply say what you want and it will appear. It is good to see you again, my dear fellow!" he added.

Harry nodded, telling the plate his order. It appeared, and he started eating rather mechanically, not even registering any taste other than dust on his tongue. All that tasted good to him now was a human soul. He wistfully thought of sucking that overtly cheerful soul out of an old man, his terrified blue eyes staring in his with no twinkle to be seen.

He was torn from his reverie by a chorus of outraged children derisively sneering "Mudblood?!" His eyes flicked from where he had been staring into space on the ceiling to the Slytherin table, where, predictably, Tom Riddle sat stiffly, glaring down all the horrified pureblood children.

No doubt there would be much hexing to be had before Riddle learned enough dark spells to terrify them all into worshiping the ground he walked on. As of now the boy wasn't worth noticing.

Harry returned to staring into space, this time imagining the bloody dismemberment of Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

Harry sat at his desk, staring into space, yet again. There was only a minute until he had his first ever class, Gryffindor fifth years. Why it had to be Gryffindors, he didn't know. He would much rather deal with some Ravenclaw seventh years.

He heard loud voices rumbling outside the room, and in the students flooded. They chattered happily, none of them noticing him. He was not very surprised by this, considering he had his strongest disillusionment spell on at the moment.

Eventually all the students were in their seats, wands and books placed on the tables in front of them.

"Where the heck is he?" One boy asked, irritably.

"I have no idea" one girl answered, and then a dreamy look spread across her face. "I hope he gets here soon."

"Is this guy late to everything?"

Other students started interjecting, until most were having their own conversations, every single one centered on him. He sighed. They were very obviously not Slytherins. No Slythering would talk so openly about someone where that person could hear.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, he removed the disillusionment charm, revealing him reclining in his office chair with his legs propped on the desk.

Every student jumped, and then stared, until one girl squealed "That's the disillusionment spell, isn't it! I've always wanted to try it! Does this mean you're teaching it to us?"

He fixed her with a hard stare, and she wilted, looking ashamed of her outburst.

"No, I will not be teaching the disillusionment spell to any of you anytime soon."

One student hesitantly raised his hand, and Harry nodded at him to speak. "Um, Professor…What is a disillusionment spell?"

"It is a spell that renders the affected essentially invisible by bending light to go around that person," he answered, leaning further back into his chair. Most students were staring at the impossible angle the chair was now at, wondering how it hadn't fallen or if magic was keeping it up.

"Now, can anyone tell me the drawbacks of such a spell?"

The same girl who had spoken earlier raised her hand eagerly, seemingly over her brief bout of shame. He nodded to her. "If someone already knows you're there, it will be completely ineffective."

"Correct. Can you tell me why?"

"All it does is bend the light. It doesn't actually make a person invisible, so if you know they are there is a simple matter of simply ending the spell with _finite incantatum_," she answered promptly.

"Excellent work. Now…"

* * *

As it turned out, he was actually very good at teaching. He did not hate it, but he did not like it either. It was simply something that was necessary.

It had been amusing listening to what the students thought of him. The general consensus was that he was a good teacher, albeit a strange one. Most seemed puzzled with the dichotomy of his generally lazy attitude and his ability to make even the bravest student quake in their robes with one hard glance. There was a betting pool going around Gryffindor on who could get him to smile, as not one student could truthfully say they had seen him smile. He had not done this on purpose, but now that he was aware it bothered them that much, he would make a point not to smile in front of a student.

Once, Dumbledore had approached him, asking why he had never given or taken house points. He had clearly explained he thought the points useless, as they only contributed toward winning a house cup that in the long run was worth nothing, other than the ability to rub it in the faces of the other houses. Of course, he also explained, that only advantage was also useless if the people whose faces you were rubbing it into did not care who got the house cup, which rendered the cup even more useless. He left behind a Dumbledore who regretted ever bothering to ask.

Riddle was predictable. He got perfect grades, and spent every second of his free time inside the library. He still failed at stopping or even retaliating to the common attacks on his person by other Slytherins. As a result, he was in the Hospital Wing at least once every few weeks, although it was obvious this was because the injuries became too much for him to simply ignore.

Harry continued to ignore him, which seemed to frustrate the boy to no end. Most teachers at this point were raving that he was a genius, and also predictable, Dumbledore was the only one other than Harry that seemed not to adore the child. Of course, where Harry was ambivalent, Dumbledore actively disliked Riddle from the very beginning. He took points whenever possible, and never gave points for any good work Riddle did in his class. He was instantly suspicious of Riddle whenever he encountered him outside of the classroom, and even inside it.

What amused Harry was that his ambivalence seemed to frustrate Riddle even more than Dumbledore's dislike. He seemed vexed as to how one person could be so neutral toward another so constantly.

Harry assumed it was because he had never been treated with ambivalence before. Everyone Riddle had ever met had either hated him or adored him. There was no middle ground.

Sebastian seemed to be a mystery to everyone but the teachers. He did not teach, but was constantly seen by Pravus' side. There was wild speculation in the students on who he was, but no one even suggested he was Harry's lover. It was comedic how the homophobia of the time made all the children treat the subject as a taboo, despite how the answer was so obvious. The teachers thought Sebastian was Pravus' brother, and that he was there simply because he had nowhere else to go.

School continued on in this manner for a few years.

* * *

Harry was sitting on a chair in the library of his quarters, flipping through a book on physics, when he heard a knock on the portrait entrance to the rooms. He snapped the book closed and approached the door, opening it and being faced with a pale Dumbledore and a terrified looking Slughorn.

"Pravus, a girl has died!" Dumbledore burst out, sounding slightly hysterical. Instantly Harry snapped to attention, his back straightening as his eyes sharpening. He had known that soon Myrtle would be dead, but he had not expected it so soon.

"Armando has requested your presence at the…" Here Dumbledore paused, as if searching for the word.

"Scene?" He nodded, seeming at a loss, his eyes slightly unfocused. Harry nodded. "Where is it?"

Dumbledore glanced at the dazed looking Slughorn before answering "The girls bathroom, the one no one uses. Apparently there was no immediately obvious cause of death, and Armando thought you would be the best to surmise how she died."

Harry nodded and without another word strode off, leaving Dumbledore and Slughorn behind.

* * *

Upon arrival at the bathroom, the first thing he noticed was absolutely nothing put in place to keep the children out. He rolled his eyes at yet another instance of wizards lacking common sense, and cast an age line around the door. No child would be getting in.

When he stepped into the bathroom, his eyes instantly fell on the corpse of the rather ugly girl with horn rimmed glasses.

Armando hurried forward, ringing his hands worriedly. "Pravus, Pravus, so good of you to come. We must investigate this, we have to, we can't have children dying, you see…"

Harry restrained himself from slapping the man into the wall. "Of course I understand, Armando. No need to be worried. We will, of course, have to alert the authorities, but I would like to examine the girl first." Here he glanced at the body rather exaggeratedly, and Dippet got the point. "Yes, yes, of course, go ahead; I knew I could count on you. I will go firecall the minister." He glanced back at the body and shivered, before he turned, practically running out of the bathroom.

Harry knelt by the corpse, already calculating what exactly to do.

She had died via basilisk stare, he already knew that. Absent mindedly, he reached out with his magic, trailing it over her body. He blinked when he felt the dark magic in her, so potent it must have been used very recently. Why would Riddle use dark magic when the basilisk was already doing the killing? He knew that while basilisks were dark creatures, their stare did not leave traces of dark magic.

Narrowing his eyes, he dug deeper. The magic at her core was light of course, yet there was a certain piece missing. He sighed when he realized exactly what Riddle had done.

He had taken the very center of her core, the piece of the core that was as to the magic in her body as the spinal cord is to the nervous system. Harry knew of plenty of rituals that, from there, he could have used to strengthen himself.

The question now was what to do about it. He had no intention of stopping Riddle at this point. What he could do, however, is erase the evidence from Myrtle's body or leave it for anyone to find. Of course, even if he did leave it, whether or not the Aurors would notice was another thing entirely.

Being able to consciously control magic as he did was extremely rare, mainly because of the amount constant work and practice it required, but also because you had to already be more in tune with your magic than most to be able to do it. He doubted any of the Aurors could do as he had and notice the missing piece of her core, much less know what rituals it could be used in.

No, there was no point in hiding the evidence at all. If they found it they found it, but for the moment he would simply say she had died of a stopped heart. He doubted they would notice the sarcasm there.

* * *

He was grading papers when he heard a knock on his office door. He didn't glance up, merely yelling "Enter" while marking the current paper with an Acceptable.

The door opened, and he instantly recognized the soul that spread around him. Dark and filled with hatred. It was hard to decide whether he wanted to devour it or not, as there was a certain sliminess to it that had appeared not so long ago. He assumed it was because Riddle had made his first horcrux.

He glanced up, taking in the handsome picture. He had to admit, Riddle had been a fine specimen before he had decided noses were overrated. Of course, he was graduating after this year, and after that he would create so many horcruxes his body wouldn't be able to help its deterioration. How the man had ever thought a weak soul would make him stronger, he didn't really know.

He said nothing, only returning to grading his papers. He heard footsteps, and noted that Riddle was approaching his desk.

"Sir, may I have a moment of your time?" His voice was soft, and he was using the same tone he had used with Slughorn. The boy must want something.

He said nothing still, waiting for Riddle to continue. Riddle, having somewhat expected the non-reaction, decided to forge on.

"As you know, I am graduating this year, and I intend to get my mastery in Defense Against the Dark Arts. You have a mastery, and teach well, so I was wondering if you would take me as your apprentice once I graduate?"

Harry marked the current paper with a T for Troll, before setting aside the papers and placing the quill on his desk. He looked up, and studied Riddle. He hadn't expected that. As far as he knew, once Riddle had graduated, he had gone to Borgin & Burkes, where he had worked only to find more founders items to be used as horcruxes.

"No, Mr. Riddle, I don't think I will." He fixed Riddle with a hard stare, silencing the protest he had known was about to come. "My answer is final." He picked up his pen again, and pulled the remaining papers over, resuming grading them.

Riddle remained still for a moment, before saying "May I ask why, sir?" He did not answer, only marking the current paper with an E.

Riddle's fists clenched, in what Harry assumed was the only way he allowed himself to show temper. Riddle did have remarkable self-control, but temper seemed to be a weak point now and in the future.

"Sir, I have been nothing but the perfect student from the moment I entered your class. I have never received anything lower than an O on any assignment or exam in your class, and am considered a prodigy by nearly every teacher in this school." That the only ones who didn't were Pravus and Dumbledore went implied. "Despite this, you still will not take me on as your apprentice?"

That speech was expected. He doesn't look up, and instead answers "Yes." T for Troll again. Really, these children need to learn how to get their facts straight.

He keenly hears the sound of Riddle's footsteps to the door, and the noise of the door slamming shut is deafening in the sudden quiet of his office. He sets his quill down again, leaning back in his chair, green eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Soon Riddle was graduating, and not long after that he and Sebastian would be leaving. They would wait for his childhood to be over, and then the fun would begin. He smirked. Oh yes, it would be very fun indeed.


End file.
